The Wild Side
by BrittWitt16
Summary: Sadie Bennet entered Beacon Hills High School destined to be popular. But she's more determined, stubborn and intelligent than people give her credit for. She starts to notice strange things happening at her new school, and ends up getting sucked into a dangerous adventure with two misfits she was never supposed to be friends with. Stiles/OC I don't own Teen Wolf.
1. Chapter 1

_Breathe in. Breathe out. Breath in. Breathe out._

I really shouldn't have been that nervous. Sure, I was sitting in a new school for the first time, all by myself, but class wasn't even in session. In fact, school didn't start until tomorrow morning.

"Just a quick meeting with the school counselor, and you can go home," I reminded myself, under my breath. My fingers absentmindedly played with the loose threads on my ripped jeans.

_"Ripped?"_ a voice snorted in my head. _"More like shredded." _I bit my lip, internalizing a groan. My right leg bounced impatiently, a nervous habit, and the heel of my black boots made quick, quiet thuds four times a second, and the wood of the old chairs lining the wall creaked whenever I shifted. That was about every ten seconds. I let out another shaky sigh.

"Miss Bennet?" I jumped as the voice cut through the dead silence of the office. My head snapped to the right to see the guidance counselor of Beacon Hills High School peering out from her office. She seemed nice enough, young, with very long black hair and a neatly ironed pants suit. She raised her eyebrows a bit at my startled reaction, mouth quirked in an amused but polite smile. I grinned, squeezing my eyes shut and releasing a shaky laugh.

"Uh, yeah. That's me. Obviously." I stood, pulling my purse onto my shoulder and swinging my arms at my side.

"I'm Ms. Morell," she greeted, stepping a little further into the room and offering me her hand.

"Hi, I'm Sadie," I replied, shaking her hand firmly.

"Well, Sadie, are you ready?"

"Yeah, yeah. Absolutely." I nodded and followed her through the green and glass door. Ms. Morell walked around to sit at her desk as my eyes scanned over the various motivational posters that lined the walls.

"So, Sadie," she started gently, motioning for me to close the door. "Tell me about yourself." I closed the door gently before perching on a chair identical to the uncomfortable one outside, chewing on my lip. "You might as well practice now," Ms. Morell added with a knowing smile. "I'm sure you'll be asked constantly tomorrow." I grinned, the prospect of being attacked by questions from students and teachers giving my stomach a lurch.

"Okay," I laughed a little. "Well, my name's Sadie Bennet. I'm a sophomore, new to Beacon Hills. My favorite subject is English, I'm pretty creative, and I spend entirely too much time on the computer." Ms. Morell laughed.

"Good, good. I think, you'll do just fine tomorrow." I chuckled along as she straitened some papers on her desk. "So how do you like Beacon Hills so far?"

"It's nice," I answered simply. "About what I expected. I didn't live too far from here, and we moved at the beginning of the summer so I'm pretty used to it."

"And why did your family decide to move?"

I sighed. I was tempted to snap, _"I'm pretty sure that the reason is bolded in that stupid file in front of you," _but held my tongue. Instead, I played along, giving the simply answer she wanted.

"My father died a few months ago, and my mom and I wanted a change of scenery. That and uh, we could really afford to keep living in the same house with just my mom's salary." Ms. Morell nodded, and while she didn't write anything down I got the feeling she was pleased by my open answer.

"If you don't mind me asking, how did your father die?" I licked my lips, staring down at the edge of her desk and running a hand through my hair.

"He was a police officer, and he uh… he was shot on the job…"

"I'm sorry for your loss," she replied. Even though the answer was scripted, she was one of very few people who actually sounded like they were. I nodded mechanically. "Were you close with your father?" I swallowed thickly.

"Uh, kinda. I don't know. We had a normal relationship. We'd team up and tease my mom, he'd scream at me for talking back, joke with me and remind me he was proud of me. We clashed a lot of the time, but he always tried to make me smile and get me what I wanted or do what was best for me. I loved him… I still love him." I nodded to myself at the correction.

"And how's your relationship with your mother?" Ms. Morell continued. I gave a small smile.

"We're really, really close. She works from home, so I'm kind of around her twenty-four seven. It's made the move a lot easier, too, but uh… She's always been there for me and I feel like for the most part we're pretty similar, so she understands me most of the time. I mean, we fight and whatever, but just natural stuff. She's like one of my best friends." I winced after the sentence left my mouth. "Sorry, that sounded like some cheesy lie."

"No, no. That's good to hear." Ms. Morell nodded. "How has your mother been handling your father's passing?" I sighed.

"She's doing the best she can. I mean, they fought a lot. Like, a lot a lot. But they still loved each other, you know? I know she's devastated. She still cries sometimes, and gets really quiet. Like she's just playing all the times they fought in her head over and over and wishing they'd gotten along better, or that they said 'I love you' and 'be safe' more often and meant it, not like just saying it out of habit when he left..."Ms. Morell peered at me with her hands folded.

"Is that how you feel?" I glanced up at her, seeing the knowledge in her eyes. I tossed my head to the side, shrugging.

"Yeah."

"You can't change the past, Sadie," she reminded me gently. "And it sounds like you and your father shared plenty of great memories."

"Yeah, yeah," I said quickly, shaking my head. "'Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened.'" Ms. Morell raised her eyebrows, and I smiled sheepishly. "Elementary school guidance counselor."

"It's good advice," she agreed, sitting back in her chair. "You should take it." I nodded.

"I know, and I will. Eventually. It's just kind of hard because he's only been gone a few months. And it was unexpected. I mean, sure, he was police, but police in a small town usually deal with little things like speeding tickets and shoplifting, not armed robberies. But it just takes one and then…he was gone." I took a deep breath, glancing up to see whether or not Ms. Morell planned on interrupting. When I decided she didn't, I pressed on. "I think I'm feeling relatively normal, though. I mean, he's my dad and I loved him. It's obviously going to take time for me to adjust to life without him. And I'll always miss him, but… I don't really feel like I'm drowning anymore. And it's gotten a little better since we moved. I miss my old house, but I'm not too far from my friends and…it's kind of nice to be living somewhere where I don't see my dad all around me. That's what I've got pictures for. Of him, of the old house. I took loads before we started packing things up, like the kitchen or his office where he would sit with his feet up on his desk and play solitaire or pick at the finish until there were dents in the desk. Or, or the barbeque and how he was so excited when we got our new one with all these different setting for him to figure out. Or how the living room was set up, and I can just see him sitting on the sofa yelling at my mom to move out of the way so he could see the television or throwing pillows around trying to find the remote. But now I walk into the living room and it's just…it's just a living room. So…I don't need to think about him as much if I don't want to. It's just…new." Ms. Morell stared at me with a placid expression.

"It sounds like you're remarkably well adjusted." My lips tugged upwards as an attempt to smile, before I rubbed at my eyes. Even though my speech was calm and collected, I'd started to cry again. I quickly wiped my face. "You're right. It's completely natural to be this sad, and you'll get better over time. But for now, it seems like you're dealing with it very, very well." I nodded, my fingers returning to the strings of my jeans. "How has the move been overall? Are you transitioning well?" I nodded, clearing my throat.

"Yeah, no, the move's been fine. My mom and I moved in with one of her high school friends. I-I don't know if we would've gotten better if we just moved into an apartment, cause we still would have been alone. Now it's like, we always have company so we have to pull ourselves together."

"Who lives in the house you're living in now?"

"Just me, my mom, my mom's friend Eleanor Martin and her daughter Lydia." I responded, shifting in my seat again as we moved into admittedly more comfortable territory. The chair groaned in response.

"And you feel comfortable there?"

"Yeah, pretty much. I mean…it's different. The house is…a lot bigger and cleaner and fancier, but I think it's been pretty nice. Miss Eleanor just got through a rough divorce, so I figure her and my mom distract each other. I guess that that's what they wanted to happen with Lydia and I, since we're in similar situations."

"And how would you describe your relationship with Lydia?" Ms. Morell asked, clasping her hands on the desk and leaning forward. I grinned.

"Have you ever seen Wicked?" The counselor raised her eyebrows.

"No, but I'm familiar." I chuckled.

"That's Lydia and I. Glinda and Elphaba." Ms. Morell smiled.

"Would you mind explaining?" I shrugged, laughing a little. I still thought it was comical how similar our relationships were.

"Well, when my mom and I first moved in, Lydia wasn't thrilled. Hell, I wasn't thrilled. I'd just lost my dad a month and a half before, and then I was sharing a house with… Well, Lydia and I are very, very different people."

"How so?" I continued smiling, only a tad bitter.

"Lydia's lucky. She's absolutely gorgeous, she's the queen bee of the grade, has a popular boyfriend, boys fawning all over her, her parents are rich, and to top it off, her grades are phenomenal. Me? I'm…not. I mean, I'm completely comfortable with who I am," I added, nodding my head quickly and waving my hands. "We don't need to turn this into a self-confidence session. But I've accepted for the most part that the person I am isn't widely considered cool. I'm pretty enough, but I've only ever had a few close friends, I've never had a boyfriend, and my mom and I needed to move because we couldn't afford our house. My grades are good, and I'm working for top ten, but I'm not valedictorian material. I mean, I can write and draw and stuff, I'm talented, but… Life hasn't really fallen into my lap like it has with Lydia."

"You sound like you've put a lot of thought into it," Ms. Morell observed. I shrugged once more.

"Well yeah. Lydia can be bitchy and shallow and irritating and judgmental," I ranted, "but I have to live with her whether I want to or not. So I had to find some way to rationalize her." Ms. Morell chuckled.

"And do you still not get along?" I tilted my head back and forth with an appraising face.

"Eh, we have our moments, but for the most part we're really good friends."

"And how did that happen?"

"Uh, about a month after I started living there, Lydia barged into my room to tell me dinner was ready or something and walked in on me crying over my dad's picture. At first I thought she was just gonna walk out, but she kinda froze for a couple seconds and ended up coming to sit with me. She started asking me about my dad, but not just like how he died, but what I liked to do with him and stuff, and how he fought with my mom. And then she was talking about how her parents fought too, and how they'd forced her to choose who she wanted to live with. Even under all that confidence, she kind of blames herself for her parents' split." Ms. Morell nodded.

"It's a common reaction from teens with divorced parents." I nodded as well.

"Anyway, we ended up talking for the rest of the night and completely missed dinner. We actually went downstairs at like midnight and just heated up dinner for ourselves and kept talking. And I think we both kind of realized how similar we were. We're both closer with our moms and have dads that aren't around for one reason or another. I look for flaws in myself cause I don't fit in, but Lydia looks for something wrong because her parents don't get along and she thinks it's her fault. We're both independent and stubborn and witty and stuff so… We clash sometimes. But after that we started hanging out more often and we get along a lot better." I grinned down at my hands. "Actually she's probably one of the best friends I've ever had."

"I'm glad to hear that," Ms. Morell replies, and again the plain answer sounds genuine. "Is she helping you settle in and get ready for the school year?" I laugh again.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that. A few weeks after our heart to heart she kind of decided to make me her project. The Sadie Bennet sitting before you now is not the Sadie Bennet that left Menlo Park." We both laughed lightly. "But yeah, I guess after she tried to welcome me with a makeover she started introducing me to all her friends, like her boyfriend Jackson and some other boys on the lacrosse team and some of her girl friends. It's been pretty nice."

"Well, it sounds like you are definitely set to go." Ms. Morell leaned forward on her desk with a grin. "Are you excited?" I gave another slightly shaky sigh, but continued to smile brightly.

"Eh, yeah. Nervous, excited." She nodded.

"Well in all honestly Sadie, I think you are in a very good place to start school. You seem like a very personable girl, and you've already got good grades and some good friends. It sounds like you're healing fine on your own, and you've got a great support system, but if you ever feel that you need to talk about your loss or your transition, please don't hesitate to make an appointment." I nodded with a polite smile.

"Absolutely."

"I want to thank you for being so honest with me," she added, as I stood up and swung my purse strap over my shoulder. "I understand that new starts are difficult and you may not feel that others understand your pain at losing your father, but I'm glad you're strong enough to share your thoughts." I nodded again, giving a light shrug to brush the matter off.

"Thank you for seeing me, Ms. Morell."

"My pleasure. Good luck tomorrow."

"Thanks," I replied, before swinging the door open. I made it halfway through before I paused, sticking my head back inside. "Ms. Morell?" She looked up from her desk, where she already had a pen paused over a blank sheet of paper, ready to take notes and pour my soul onto the page. "This… This meeting isn't a protocol for new students, is it?" The counselor opened and closed her mouth once, before deciding to tell the truth.

"No." I nodded.

"I figured… Thanks, Ms. Morell."

"Goodbye, Miss Bennet." And with that I shut the door. I sighed as I walked out the office door to the main hallway, my hand already digging around in my purse. Yeah, thanks Mom. General meeting, my ass.

Finally, my fingers skimmed the smooth surface of my phone and managed to fish it out. I glanced at the time. Mom was most likely still in the middle of her conference call. I sighed, opening a new text to Lydia.

_"Can you pick my up from my meeting at school?"_

I tucked the phone in my pocket, hands attaching to my purse strap hung across my torso and walking towards the entrance. It was hardly a minute before my phone vibrated in my pocket.

_"I'm painting my nails."_

I rolled my eyes. Typical Lydia. I was fairly certain it was the third time she'd painted them that day, trying to find the perfect shade to go with the outfit she still hadn't nailed down for the first day of school.

_"I can wait?"_

I paused in the hallway, chewing on my lip for a few seconds before I got her response.

_"Jackson's at the school for lacrosse practice and gets out in literally like 2 seconds. Just ask him for a ride. I'll see you when you get home! We've still got a LOT of work to do. :)"_

I groaned at the dismissal. I did not want to text Jackson Whittlemore. I mean, he was nice enough. He had to be because I was friends with Lydia, and he couldn't have Lydia mad with him. And I was sure that somewhere under that tough boy exterior, there was a genuinely nice person, the person that surfaced when he was alone with Lydia. But my past experience with "popular boys" made me extremely wary of him. I didn't want to push my luck and annoy him, but there didn't seem to be any other choice. I took a deep breath, scrolling down my contacts to where Lydia had entered her boyfriend's number.

_"Hey Jackson, it's Sadie. Could you text me when you get out of lacrosse practice? I kind of need a ride."_

Needless to say, it was not literally two seconds until Jackson texted me back. In fact, it was more like ten minutes. I spent that time collapsed on the floor with my back against a row of lockers, tucked into a corner at the end of the hallway next to the main doors. My phone vibrated in my hand, alerting me to the text message and interrupting the mindless game I was playing.

_"Done."_

I nearly growled. "Well thanks, Jackson, that's superb," I hissed.

_"Great. Do you think you could drive me back to Lydia's?"_

I screwed up my face in anticipation, crossing my fingers and not bothering to go back to my game.

_"Not with you looking like that."_

I tossed my hands down for a moment. To be honest, I couldn't tell if he was joking or not. I knew that he had a sort of insult-based sense of humor, a side effect of his good looks in my opinion, but I also knew that if he was being serious he would not hesitate to make me walk home to protect his stupid reputation. I smashed out a quick reply back.

_"Please? You're coming over to see her anyway, and she'll be super pleased she didn't have to leave because you offered to drive me home."_

So he hadn't offered. Lydia didn't know that yet. I knew it was stupid to use his relationship with my friend to my advantage, but I needed a ride, and no one else was coming anytime soon. Also, if he was joking, my extortion could be equally construed as humor, and I wouldn't look stupid. Well, not too stupid anyway. It took him a full minute and a half to reply.

_"You've got 5 minutes to make yourself look presentable."_

"Jackass," I whispered, as I replied.

_"Thank you! :) See you in a bit!"_

Tucking my phone back into my pocket, I stood up and speed walked to the nearest bathroom. I was sure I looked fine, but you know… Boys headed my way led by an irritable Jackson? I could stand to look a little better.

I walked into the girls' room and stood in front of the mirror, taking a deep breath as I took in my appearance. I ran my fingers through my hair again, still not used the to sleek, choppy brunette layers that grazed my collarbone. After losing my father, I'd cut over a foot off my hair, which used to hand lankly down past my hipbones. It was now a lot healthier, and as strange as it felt, I loved it.

I reached into my purse and pulled out the makeup bag Lydia was now forcing me to carry around at all times for emergencies. Thankfully, I was growing out of the awkward stage that I had suffered through the past three years. On top of what was happening naturally, Lydia had spent the summer putting me through makeup drills, things like the color foundation I used, the shad and placement of blush, how to keep my eyes still when applying eye shadow and eyeliner, and one over her favorite lessons, "god-Sadie-please-just-put-the-lipstick-on-I-promi se-it-will-look-great." I had followed her instructions explicitly, and was pretty sure I was at least presentable. But just in case…

I quickly tapped some concealing powder over my face, mainly on my cheeks to completely erase any evidence of my crying. I added on a little more eyeliner, and applied some lipstick for good luck. It was still something I was not used to, and my lips seemed to stand out far too much on my face. But as Lydia had pointed out, that was the point of lipstick.

I packed the makeup away, turning then to the rest of my outfit: black boots, a shredded pair of black jeans, and an old orange T-shirt advertising Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. I pursed my lips, wracking my brains for ways to make the outfit any more popularity-acceptable. I started by tugging the top down a little bit, before tugging the bottom of the shirt slightly up to expose some of the fairly flat stomach I'd gruelingly worked out for over the summer. Then, I tugged the tops of my jeans down to rest on my hips, checking to make sure my underwear wasn't peeking out over any of the hems. Once I was finished, I looked back in the mirror, tousling my choppy hair once more at an attempt to give it some volume. That was about as skater-chic as it was getting. I pushed up my bust for good measure before casually walking back out into the hallway and waiting on a set of steps I knew Jackson would have to pass on his way to the parking lot.

True to his word, a few minutes later, I heard the clamor and chatter of the lacrosse team coming up the hall. I turned my head to the right, watching as the mob of attractive boys made their way towards me, lead by the one and only Jackson Whittlemore. Even fresh out of practice he managed to look frustratingly attractive, with his dirty blonde hair spiked up, head held high, and his prominent jaw line and cheekbones casting light shadows on his face. His narrow eyes scanned the hallway, and I held my breath as they landed on me. He routinely scanned my body, and when I raised my eyebrows he gave a miniscule jerk of his head. Approval.

Immediately, I felt like a weight had been lifted off my chest. Gracefully as possible, I hopped to my feet, and snatching my purse. I tossed my hair a bit and attempted to strut over to the lacrosse boys. It must not have looked too stupid, because I was met with a wall of grins from my acquaintances, and even a small one from Jackson.

"Hey, boys," I greeted, falling into stride next to their leader. There was a general reply of "Hey, Sadie," "What's up, Sadie," and a low, pathetic whistle from Greenburg.

"What are you doing here?" asked Danny, his face popping up between myself and Jackson. Danny was by far my favorite male friend so far. Where Jackson was 70% douchebag and 30% genuine human being, his best friend seemed to be a lovely person through and through. Danny was polite and kind and funny, and as all nice, attractive, available men seemed to be, gay. He occasionally put up a façade of meanness because, like me, he was a good person attached to the popular group, and apparently that meant there were appearances to uphold. But for the most part, Danny was civil with everyone he met, and I was eternally grateful for his efforts to keep me from being Lydia and Jackson's third wheel over the summer.

"Oh, you know. Exploring." I shrugged, not willing to admit in front of the entire sports team that my mother wanted my mental health checked before I started school. "Figured I'd drop my books off at my locker and look for my classrooms."

"Sadie, you're friends with the lacrosse team," Matt Heifer scoffed, as if that should negate my fear of getting lost in the new school.

"Besides, a hot piece of ass like you isn't gonna have any trouble getting a little assistance," Dylan Peters smirked from somewhere to my left. I rolled my eyes, throwing my hand up in what ended up being a very Lydia-like manner.

"I'm not looking for any assistance from a horn dog like you, Peters." To my surprise, my comment was met with a round of laughter and a few "ooh"s and "burn"s. I smirked in victory, adding a little more pep to my walk.

"Doesn't matter," Dylan's faithful best friend Adam added. "No one'll even notice you if you keep dressing like that." I grinned, spinning around and walking backwards. I held my arms out grandiosely.

"I know. Take a good look, boys, cause this is apparently the last you'll ever see of my T-shirts and ripped jeans." I laughed before returning to walk forward.

"Can you still call those jeans?" Eric Bradley teased from my right. I gave a dry laugh, shooting him a glare.

"Whatever," Danny interrupted, laying a hand on my shoulder to diffuse the situation. "I like them."

"Well whatever they are, Lydia says she's locking them in a box and burying them after today." Danny laughed.

"Oh? You're gonna get Lydia-fied?" I chuckled, again with a taste of bitterness.

"I've already been Lydia-fied. My wardrobe's just the last step."

"Too bad she couldn't improve your personality or that mouth of yours," Jackson jeered, shoving the doors to the outside world open. I rolled my eyes with a grin.

"Shut up, Jackson. You know you love it." He shot me a look with raised eyebrows and Danny guffawed loudly. "Okay, maybe not love, but you at least like me a little bit. Admit it. I'm a breath of fresh air."

"Air doesn't talk as much," he said shortly. "Just get in the Porsche." I held my hands up in defeat, turning around and giving Danny a hug

"See you tomorrow," I said, before he tousled my hair.

"Yeah, see ya. Good luck tomorrow." I nodded quickly, but couldn't bring myself to look him in the eye. Instead, I stayed looking down at the ground as if the pavement needed reassurance. "Hey," he added, placing a hand on my shoulder. I glanced up. "You're gonna be fine. You already know a bunch of us, and you've got my number if you need something, okay?" I nodded again, taking a deep breath.

"Yeah, okay. Thanks, Danny." He smiled.

"No problem. I expect you to look kickass tomorrow." I laughed, backing away.

"I'll try my best. Bye, guys!" I waved to the lingering members of the team before jogging over the Jackson's shining, silver Porsche and sliding into the passenger seat. Without a word, the lacrosse captain started up the engine and backed out of his self proclaimed space, and with a simple head nod to his teammates on the sidewalk, we peeled out of the parking lot.

We sat in silence for a few minutes before I was tired of chewing on my lip and playing with my hair in order to avoid conversation.

"So, how did practice go?" Jackson's eyes never left the road, but I could see his jaw tense a bit from the passenger seat.

"How do you think it went?" he replied in a voice that attempted to condemn me for my stupidity for asking such an obvious question. However, an entire summer with Jackson had taught me to deal with these moments for the most part. I simply chuckled, leaning back comfortably into the cushioned seat.

"I think that it probably went swimmingly, but you wouldn't pass up the chance to gloat about your mad skills." And there it was. The annoyed yet amused tug of the lips that let me know that even though Jackson hardly looked at me, he could appreciate my attitude.

"What can I say?" was his simple, smug reply. I released a small grin myself.

"So, you guys definitely have the championship in the bag?" He nodded.

"So long as there aren't too many injuries, and the asses warming the bench stay there," he conceded. "There's no way we're not winning. It's our fourth year in a row."

"And I'm sure our heroic captain will lead the army to another bloody victory." He glared at me momentarily, but that was the only repercussion I received for my cheek. "So, what positions do you think it's most important to keep first string in?" Jackson rolled his eyes at my obvious lack of knowledge.

"First line," he corrected. Then he was off, detailing each of the positions, which I was becoming pretty familiar with, who was playing in each position, and essentially who he could afford to lose. As he rambled, he allowed himself to relax into a position with only one hand on the wheel, the other occasionally gesturing to get a point across. A good sign. One of the perks Jackson got out of talking to me was the fact that he could talk about lacrosse without being glared at in annoyance. It got a bit much sometimes, but I'd come to Beacon Hills knowing absolutely nothing about the sport. Football was the only sport I'd ever really enjoyed watching, and while my love of the game was apparently scandalous to Jackson, and he consistently put on a mask of annoyance every time he had to explain something to me, I could tell that he enjoyed talking about the sport to someone new. Besides, talking to me about lacrosse meant we were on Jackson's turf, where he had more knowledge and power, a situation I knew he'd never pass up.

Jackson ended up chatting about lacrosse all the way to the house, with occasional comments from me in defense of condemnation of certain players. I didn't care how good Dylan Peters's aim was. I wanted to see him take a lacrosse ball straight to his over-eager crotch. Only when we pulled into the driveway of the Martin household did our conversation stray to different topics.

"Dude, you still don't have a car?" I shrugged as Jackson's Porsche sped neatly into the space behind Lydia's shining black VW Beetle. Beside us was Miss Eleanor's glossy red Mercedes, and in front of that, my mother's dull tan minivan.

"Mom works from home. I could take the van if I wanted." Jackson eyed the automobile warily, as if it harbored some disgusting disease deadly only to lacrosse captains. "Oh come on, she's not that bad!" I exclaimed, walking up the van and lovingly patting the hood. "We've had her forever, but she's super reliable and great for driving groups." Jackson scrunched his nose.

"Yeah, don't drive that thing to school." I rolled my eyes, walking back over to him before we headed to the door.

"Don't worry, your reputation will be completely intact. Lydia's driving me." Before Jackson could make any snide comment about how he wouldn't talk to me if I ever drove the van to school, I opening and through the front door. "Mom! I'm home!"

Instead of my mother, a natural force of strawberry blonde greeted me by prancing down the stairs and wrapping me in a too-tight hug.

"Hey there!" Lydia greeted, her wrists awkwardly digging into my back as she attempted to squeeze the air out of my lungs without smudging her nail polish. Before I could reply, she'd relinquished me and was already repeating the phrase onto her boyfriend's lips. I shook my head, grinning but averting my eyes Jackson pulled her closer by her hips and she threw her arms around his neck. By the time I'd finished taking my time untying my sneakers, they'd pulled apart and Lydia was already dragging him to her room. "Don't think I forgot about you, missy!" She called, looking over her shoulder as she tugged Jackson up the stairs and making eye contact with my receding form. "I only got to start looking at outfit choices for you for tomorrow, and we've still got to do your nails! Lots of work to do!" Before I could protest, she and Jackson disappeared around the corner in a swirl of hands and strawberry blonde curls. I sighed, waiting a few moments before I followed them up the stairs to my own room.

My room in the Martin home, which is still what I considered the house, was everything I had ever wanted in a room. The walls were painted a light purple, and I'd taken some time over the summer to practice painting sprigs of purple flower blossoms sprouting up from the molding on the floor. I had a plush, purple carpet as well, spanning the room that seemed much bigger than my room at home. My bed sat in an alcove on the left wall, perfectly fitted to the section so that three sides of the bed were pressed against a wall. The fourth side had a pole over it with long purple drapes hanging down, giving the bed the look of a stage and the function of a canopy bed. The opposite wall had my dresser and vanity, a table with a huge mirror filled with just makeup and jewelry which I was still getting used to. On the wall opposite me there were two large windows, each with a window seat lined with purple cushions. In the middle of them was my large L-shaped desk, flipped so that I could work on my homework, on my laptop, or on anything other project I wanted while facing the center of the room. Across, the wall with the door also had two closets, one on each side. The one to my right was mostly for storage, art supplies along with some costume pieces I had acquired over the years. At a guess, there was also a large metal lock box sitting on the bottom where Lydia would be locking away all the clothes she deemed unsalvageable. The closet on my left was filled mostly with clothes Lydia and I had bought over the summer. The sliding doors had been left open, presenting the colorful slightly tousled array to the world as evidence that Lydia had been rummaging around to make me a nice outfit.

I sighed with a slight smile. I knew that she only wanted me to have a good first day. Okay, really she wanted me to have a great first day as validation for her work over the summer, and then she'd be able to be proud and take credit for my transformation. But, she was my friend and I knew that there was a fairly large part of her that was doing this as a way to welcome me into her life the only way she knew how.

I dropped my worn out sneakers into the storage closet, knowing that trying to wear them to school might cost me my ride, and padded over to my desk to place my purse down. I opened up my laptop to reply to a few good luck messages on Facebook from friends from my old town. To be honest though, everyone had seemed very distant since my father's death, like they pulled away to give me space but never returned to give me support. I figured some of the fault also lay with me. I didn't want too many tight bonds trying to pull me back to the town that held so many memories of my dad, so I stayed away from my friends to make the break easier. I chatted with my friend Briana about my day, allowing her to get excited over all my lacrosse-boy acquaintances, but that was the extent of my online sociability.

A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. I glanced up as the door opened, my mom's sharp face and black waves of hair peeking inside.

"Can I come in?" she asked, with a small smile. I nodded, my face passive as I returned to scrolling around the internet. She shut the door behind her, turning back and wandering into the middle of the room. She looked around with a grin, before sighing into the silence. "You know, I just can't get over how good your room looks," she said, raising her arms to the walls as if I needed a reminder that this was my room. "You did such a great job on those flowers."

"Thanks," I replied, not looking up from the screen. I could feel her eyes on me, but I was determined to avoid her gaze. I could hear her quiet breathing, before she took another stab.

"Lydia helping you pick out an outfit for school tomorrow?" she asked, looking over at the open closet. I hummed in agreement as she walked over to straighten some of the hangers and smooth the fabric. "Any decisions yet?"

"Nope." Mom ignored my short tone, sliding the door shut and beaming at me.

"Are you excited?"

"Ecstatic," I replied in a monotone voice. She didn't hide her sigh of frustration this time, moving over to sit on my bed.

"How was the orientation meeting today?"

"You mean the poorly disguised assessment of my mental health? Fine." The room was silent for a minute with the exception of my fingers smashing into the keyboard.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice weary. I stopped typing as her head sunk into her hands, a pang of guilt pulling at my chest despite my attempts to keep a stoic demeanor. After a few seconds she looked up, patting the bed beside her. "Come here." Slowly, I got up from my desk and walked over, collapsing on the mattress and allowing her to envelop me in a hug. "I'm sorry," she repeated into my shoulder. "I just want to make sure you're okay."

"I know," I sighed, squeezing back. "I'm sorry too." We stayed still for a few seconds, swaying back and forth but keeping our arms around each other. When her hand tapped my lower back, her subconscious signal to let go, I pulled back. "But, you'll be happy to hear that Ms. Morell thinks I'm perfectly fine. 'Remarkably well adjusted.'" My mother smiled sadly at me, nodding slightly.

"Of course you are. I'm glad." I bit my lip.

"How are you?" She let out a large sigh, running a hand through her hair the same way I did when I was upset.

"Holding it together. That doctor Ellie recommended has been helping a bit but… I miss your father." I tugged her into my again, resting my forehead against her neck.

"I miss him too. And we're never gonna stop. We just need time and then we can stop feeling so sad all the time and just remember the good things." Mom let out a watery chuckle as she rubbed my back.

"That something Ms. Morell told you today?" I sat up and threw her a lopsided grin.

"Actually, that's something I told her." She smiled, resting her hand on my leg, which I laid my hand on top of. "I promise if I need it I'll go back to talk to her, or come and talk to you." She nodded.

"I know. I know you will. You're a smart girl. I love you."

"I love you too, Mom." We just smiled at each other for a few seconds before my mom snatched my hands.

"So!" she exclaimed brightly, in an attempt to beat back the gloom. "How are you doing your nails if you haven't picked out an outfit yet?"

"Mom," I groaned. "That's Lydia's job, I don't know!"

"Of course, you could probably just go with a neutral color. Do you want French nails? Come on."

"Mom-," I started to protest, some excuse about Lydia on the tip of my tongue.

"No, come on," she insisted, standing up and going over to my vanity. "Lydia's going to be with her boyfriend for a while. Put on some music and let your mother do your nails." I sighed with a smile, watching as she moved the stool to the opposite side of my desk and started rummaging for the right kind of polish.

I hung out with my mom for the next hour or so, letting her paint my fingernails with French tips, and then my toenails when she insisted she wanted me to match. I told her all about my meeting at school, my conversation with Briana, and how all my friends, old and new, were getting along. She told me a little about her day, mostly about the latest book she was listening to on audiotape, and even confided in me a bit about how her own therapy sessions had been going. It was a nice way to spend the night, feeling almost normal before I started a completely new school tomorrow morning as a completely new person.

Lucky for me, Eleanor got home a little late, which pushed dinner back a bit, which pushed my shower back a bit, which meant by the time I was done soaking and blow drying my hair, it was too late for Lydia to do too much damage. The most she could do was pull out three possible skirts, five possible tops, and four different pairs of shoes. She spent forever mixing and matching, going back and forth between different combinations and forcing me to hold each one up as she circled me like a vulture. After over an hour, she threw her arms up.

"Fine!" she exclaimed, snatching the clothes back and hanging them in the front of my closet. "There's just not enough time to do this now. I'll think about it before I fall asleep and I'm sure the perfect outfit will hit me like a Hummer when I wake up." She rounded on me as if it was my fault time was moving so quickly. "You! Blue bottle of moisturizer on your face in ten minutes, glass of water, and then bed. I need you well rested to turn some heads and shock the population of Beacon Hills tomorrow morning." Despite the demanding and slightly irritating tone, I grinned, holding up my hand in a mock salute.

"Will do, ma'am." Lydia relaxed into a smile, skitting over to hug me tightly.

"Night, Sadie. You are going to be amazing tomorrow, trust me." I pursed my lips, my nerves getting to me once more.

"Thanks, Lyd."

Without another word, she glided out the door, barely pausing to call, "Sweet dreams," over her shoulder on her way to the bathroom.

I followed her instructions to the t, spreading the moisturizer on my face before brushing my teeth and snagging a glass of water from the kitchen. I said goodnight to Miss Eleanor and my mother, who were sitting in the kitchen talking in low voices, and then retreated to my room. I crawled into bed and shut the curtains, leaving me in almost complete darkness. I waited for my eyes to adjust, the light from the windows crawling along the ceiling and through the space above my curtains. After a few minutes, I could see all the pictures lining my walls. There were pennants from both my school in Menlo Park and Beacon Hills, as well as a few pictures of my friends and me. A poster from my favorite TV show, and a few concert tickets were taped to the wall as well. But I turned on the blankets and face the wall with my pillow. There were only a few photos up, taken a little over a year ago at my middle school graduation. My mom was smiling at the camera, while I laughed up at my dad, who grinned down at me as he held my cap up off my head. I smiled sadly at the photo, remembering how hard my parents had tried to not fight that day.

"Hey Dad," I whispered, though it sounded like I could be yelling in the quiet. "So…new school tomorrow. Logically, I shouldn't be too worried. Lydia's taking good care of me, and I know a bunch of other people who will help me find my way. I'm not interested in any of the lax boys that I've met so far, so you don't have to worry about that…. I went to talk to the guidance counselor today to talk about you. Mom made me go, but she said I'm handling it pretty well. I kind of feel like I have to, for Mom's sake. I know you guys used to fight a lot, but she misses you…. Sorry, you know that, but…I miss you too." I sighed, looking at the picture beneath my graduation, of my dad grinning at the camera in his police uniform. I cleared my throat when my eyes started to sting, refusing to add crying to my list of problems the night before school. "I-I should get to bed," I added. "Lydia will have my head if she has to try and cover up my puffy eyes tomorrow morning. I love you, Dad." And with that I turned around, tucking myself under the thick blanket and snuggling into the soft sheets on my side.

I just had to keep a level head. There were plenty of people there to take care of me. I just had to make it through the first day of stares and looks of pity, and then I could get back to a normal life.

Yes. Completely normal.


	2. Chapter 2

When I woke up the next morning, it was not to the sunlight and gently tweeting of the birds. It was not to my alarm clock blaring my favorite song. It was not my mother shaking me awake because I was going to be late. Instead, it was to the unstoppable force named Lydia Martin throwing my bed curtains open and marching to my closet.

"Sadie Bennet! What are you doing in bed! Come on, up, up, up!" I snapped up in bed, blearily yet frantically looking over to my alarm clock in fear. I groaned, collapsing back onto the bed.

"Lydia, what the hell? I don't have to get up for another half an hour."

"Exactly," she chirped, pulling out a shirt she hadn't even considered the yesterday, before shoving it right back. "It's just half an hour, no big deal. Up!" I practically growled, shoving my face back into my pillow and pulling the covers over my head. "No! No, no, no!" she yelped, scampering over and prying the blankets out of my hands. "It is your first day at a new school, my school, and you are going to need every second we can get to look perfect. Now get up, make you bed, and hop to it." I sat up, tipping my head back in defeat as Lydia sped back to the closet, muttering to herself about clashing colors. There was nothing to be done. I was already awake, and I'd rather put the extra half an hour towards looking nice than fighting with my best friend as if she was my mother. So, doing as I was told, I got up, made my bed, and walked down the hall to the bathroom.

I was proud to note, as I vigorously brushed my teeth, that my eyes did not hold any sign that I was on the verge of tears last night. In fact, despite all the tossing and turning I'd done, and my recently lost half and hour, I managed to look fairly well rested. I brushed my hair and worked in some sort of smoothing serum Lydia had shoved into the shopping basket a couple weeks ago before returning to my room.

Lydia, I was relieved to find, was nowhere in sight. Instead, a finalized first-day-of-school outfit had been laid on my bed. I turned on my stereo and slowly and cautiously got changed into the specified clothes.

"Oh my God!" Lydia squealed when she peeked into my room a few minutes later. She ran inside, completely dressed in a long sleeved blue shirt and flirty plaid skirt, and pulled me up from my seat on the bed, where I'd been putting on my shoes. She hugged me tightly before stepping back and motioning for me to turn. "You look fantastic! Ah! Go me!" Before I could look turn to the mirror to see the full outfit for myself, she grabbed my shoulders. "Nuh-uh! Vanity, now. You can see when you're done."

Much to my annoyance, Lydia wouldn't even let me look in the mirror to put on my makeup. Instead, she insisted that she do it one last time, and I could start on my own tomorrow. Knowing Lydia all too well, I sat patiently for a lifetime that was probably more like twenty-five minutes. When she stepped back, she looked so happy she could have cried. She slapped the concealing brush back onto my vanity with finality before clasping her hands under her chin tightly, and staring at me as though I was some art project she was bound to get an A on.

"Can I see now?" I asked teasingly, raising my eyebrow. Lydia beamed, nodding her head frantically and dragging me over to the full-length mirror next to my closet door.

Whoever that girl was, she was definitely not me. At least, not the me I was used to seeing. The girl in the mirror was tall and slender, practically seeping confidence even though her face was contorted in a timid, amazed expression. Her hair fell in just the right place. Her eyebrows gently arched in surprise over two large, brown doe eyes with dark liner and lashes. Pink lips slightly parted and the blush dusted on her cheeks darkening ever so slightly. She had on a form fitting turquoise blouse with V-neckline and sleeves ending just above her elbows, the bottom tucked into a black, pleated skirt. Black stocking disappeared into clean and stylish knee-high boots, which had a heel low enough to keep her height from being intimidating. I turned my shoulders back and forth, captivated as the reflection moved in time. That was me. I glanced at Lydia, who was looking on with pride.

"Um…who am I?" She laughed, picking up a slightly worn leather jacket I'd owned for a couple years.

"You," she started, coming up behind me and slipping my arms into the sleeves, "are Sadie Bennet, my best friend, who is going to be the center of attention at Beacon Hills High School." She squealed again, hugging me from behind and resting her head on the side of my arm. Her chin couldn't reach the top of my shoulder, as I was more than half a foot taller than her. "God, I'm so glad we got you that bra. See? Aren't you glad we got you that bra?" I nodded and laughed along with her in complete honesty. It was probably the most comfortable thing I'd ever worn, and its magical lifting properties were just a plus. I smoothed down the top, letting my fingers slid to the every swaying end of the black skirt.

"I don't know, Lyd. This is kinda short…" I'd worn skirts and shorts before, but it seemed a tad unnerving to wear something so eye-catching on a day where all eyes would probably be on me anyway. "Maybe I should wear something more casual and just ease into the skirts."

"No," Lydia replied immediately, pulling away from me. "That's not how you start a school year! You _start_ a school year looking drop dead gorgeous so that's all anyone remembers if you start to slip in the middle of the year. Which you won't." I turned to give her a playful glare, but instead got a face full of perfume. I coughed and spluttered, looking over at Lydia's mischievous smile with a real glare this time. She just grinned her Cheshire cat smile, sprayed me three more times and grabbed both my purse and my hand. "Come on! Time to go!"

Lydia and I reached the stairs to find our mothers waiting patiently at the bottom. Both Mom and Miss Eleanor crooned over how beautiful and grown up we looked, and Lydia was congratulated and thanked for the time and effort she spent hanging out with me and for welcoming me with a makeover.

Two pieces of toast, a glass of juice, a teeth check and 20 pictures later, Lydia and I were finally allowed to leave the house. I climbed into the passenger seat of Lydia's Beetle and spent the next few minutes rummaging around the large bag Lydia insisted was my new purse. I knew everything was in there, and I had put the rest of my supplies in my locker yesterday, but I couldn't help compulsively checking, even just so I had something to do. Lydia spent the ride reminding me of all the rules. Walk to her locker so everyone gets a good look, wait outside for someone to escort you to class, try not to go to your locker too often, but don't hold too many books at once. Check in with these people, don't talk to these people, meet up with Lydia at the end of the day for lacrosse practice. Simple.

By the time we pulled into the school parking lot, my hands hand begun shaking with nerves again. Lydia parked the car and turned to look at me.

"You okay?" she asked with genuine concern. I nodded, not trusting my voice. I knew I was going to be fine and that I was over-reacting, but there were so many people walking around outside. Instead of answering her question, I changed the topic.

"Thanks for approving my jacket," I said in a voice a tad higher than usual. "Glad it meets up to standards."

"Of course," she answered. "I still can't believe you got that vintage, it's in such good condition." I smiled, calming as I noticed her familiar habit of saying "vintage" instead of "second-hand." She lightly smacked my bicep and I turned to look at her as she went on. "And besides, I may have given you a makeover, but I still want you to be you. Just, the best version of you." She tilted her head and smiled reassuringly. I grinned back, my breathing returning to normal. "Which is why," she started, a twinkle in her eye as she opened her purse. "You have this."

Any breath I had regained left my body the moment Lydia pulled her hand out of the bag. She was holding up a necklace. Not anything pretty, sparkly, or gorgeous, except to me. It was a set of dog tags. My dad's set of dog tags. The set of dog tags my mom had made for their anniversary as a joke from when they were younger and he tried to pick her up by pretending he was military. And Lydia had them in her hand for me.

"Normally, I'd completely disapprove," she said, waving a hand as if she hadn't put any thought or care into this. "But I asked your mom and we got them cleaned, so…considering the situation I can let it pass." I finally tore my eyes away from the necklace to meet Lydia's eyes and sweet smile. My shocked expression must have been thanks enough because she flicked her wrist a little bit, motioning for me to turn around, which I hurriedly did. She reached over to the passenger seat, fastening the necklace and pulling down my makeup mirror.

I stared into the small square, my hand resting on the tags. The newly adapted chain left the tags dangling right under my clavicle, clearly visible and framed by my V-neck shirt. My face was far prettier than I'd ever felt, which had left me feeling awkward and unsure about myself and who I was trying to be. But with the dog tags on, I suddenly felt much more like myself.

"Hey, no crying," Lydia nudged from the driver's seat. "You'll ruin all my hard work." I closed the makeup mirror and threw myself at her, hugging her close and awkwardly over the divide in the seats.

"Thank you so, so much, Lydia," I whispered hoarsely, attempting to battle off the tears in my eyes for her sake.

"You're welcome," she replied, her voice quieter than usual. We stayed still a moment longer before she pulled back, grabbing both of my hands in hers. "Now you listen to me," she began, her eyes set in a determined glare while she continued to smile. "You are fantastic. You are smart, you are funny, you are talented and you are an actress. So you are going to go out there and wow everyone and not let a single one realize you're nervous. Okay?" I took a deep breath, steadying myself under Lydia's gaze.

"Okay."

"There's Christine," Lydia noticed, spotted a girl with long dirty blonde hair texting in front of the car. "You ready?" I nodded.

"Absolutely." And on that final note, we both pulled back and stepped out of the car. Nervous new girl, off. Oscar winning actress mode, on.

"Hi!" Lydia greeted in a singsong voice, lightly and quickly hugging Christine. I immediately noticed the different between this hug and the one I'd just shared with Lydia in the car, and grinned. I knew from living with her that Lydia didn't have that many girl friends. I think it was largely because she was so intimidating. It'd to have respect for someone who's too eager to please, especially in Lydia's case. So many girls were willing to put up with her bitchiness and attitude, not because they wanted to know about the smart, determined and caring girl underneath, but because she was attractive, popular, and extremely intimidating. They could never stand up to her, which luckily, was something I _could _do. So while Lydia had several female acquaintances, there were next to none she called close friends. I counted myself lucky to be one of them.

Christine Ashwood knew that, which is why when she finally turned to me and said, "Hey, Sadie!" it was with just as much perk and enthusiasm as she had given Lydia. Deciding to make Lydia proud for once, and maybe to self-servingly quell any last minute nerves, I allowed my eyes to scan over her dark jacket, stocking and boots like looked eerily similar to Lydia's.

"Uh, hey Christine," I replied, still looking at her boots before smiling brightly. Lydia lightly smacked my arm again. I raised my eyebrows at her while she gave me a smile that simultaneously said, "That was mean," "Play nice!" and "I am so proud of you."

"Come on," Lydia announced. "Time to show Beacon Hills what they've been missing." She led the way to the front doors of the school, Christine and I falling into step behind her. I may have been Lydia's best friend, but we were still the new girl and the queen bee, so I let her lead the formation. Honestly, I was taking the time to actually appreciate the walking drills Lydia had only half-jokingly put me through over the summer. While I found Lydia's confidence contagious, allowing me to strut easily behind her at a speed that stopped me from catching up, poor Christine was having a hard time gliding and watching Lydia at the same time. I felt bad, but another part of me, the nervous-new-girl part, was practically jumping up and down in celebration of my accomplishment.

Given the amount of attention Lydia seemed to be drawing, I was glad that while I managed to walk correctly, I was still her background for now. The world seemed to stop to notice Lydia Martin as we made our way up the sidewalk and up the path to the school. Several people waved, shouted hellos, or simply stopped to stare. I raised a willing hand to everyone I knew, each wave quelling my nerves a little more as I reassured myself that I wasn't really that new. Lydia, on the other hand, seemed perfectly content ignoring everyone who tried to talk to her as if the peasants and laymen of the high school social ladder hardly existed.

"Hey Lydia!" a familiar looking brunette boy said a tad too loudly as we approached him and his friend. "You and your friend look-," he started, but she blew past the pair without a second glance. I tried diligently to avoid catching his eye as I walked close to him not a second later. "Like you're gonna ignore me," he finished, slightly quieter. The presence of his familiar face nagged me, as did the unusually desperate tone of his voice. Giving up on figuring out who he was, I turned around before I lost my nerve, throwing him a dazzling smile and a little wave just in case.

The boy's face instantly changed from a wince of disappointment and desperation to a blank slate of surprise and confusion. He raised his hand mechanically to wave back, but I was already hurriedly turning around.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Confusion meant that I didn't actually know him, that he was not someone I had been introduced to and just forgotten the name of. Confusion meant the poor kid probably didn't even know who I was, fuck! The school day hadn't even started and I'd already made the mistake of making someone uncomfortable. _"Damnit, Sadie," _I had to remind myself. _"You're still the new girl! Act like it! Just because you know some lacrosse boys doesn't mean you can do anything you want!" _I shook my head, clearing it once more as I concentrated solely on regaining my perfect stride. Not on the hundreds of eyes glued to the new girl, and certainly not the cute stranger I'd confused.

When Christine stopped to go to her locker, Lydia simply kept on walking easily calling, "Okay! Buh-bye!" over her shoulder. I waved goodbye as well, though my smile was a bit less bright now, dimmed by all the butterflies in my stomach.

Lydia walked my to my locker, eying me as I silently retrieved a notebook and a few books from my locker. Only when I slammed it shut and turned to her with a tiny grin did she speak.

"Okay," she spoke, narrowing her eyes. "It's been like two minutes since we got out of the car. What's got you all shook up?" She turned and stalked to her own locker before I could speak, trusting that I'd trail after her, which I did. I sighed and leaned against the wall as she opened her own locker.

"Yeah, two minutes in and I've already made an ass of myself." Lydia raised her eyebrows at her math textbook, not bothering to make eye contact. "I waved to someone I didn't know. He looked confused." Lydia beamed and abruptly slammed her locker shut.

"Oh my God, Sadie, is that it?" She rested a hand on my shoulder. "That just makes you look super sociable. Listen, everyone here knows you're my friend, and those who don't will be finding out within the next period. That means you've already got their attention! All you have to do is prove to them that you're worthy of it. The poor boy probably went into shock because you were paying him any attention at all." I giggled, but before I could reply, Jackson swooped in for what looked like a routine good-morning make out.

"Hey, ladies," he said with a charming smile, wrapping his arm around Lydia's waist.

"Good morning, Jackson," Lydia replied in unison, her gently chirping while my monotone voice sounded more like a class's greeting to a teacher. I smiled to reassure them I was joking, and that I was fine.

"Okay," Lydia said, turning in Jackson's grip so that she could grab my wrist with one hand while the other lay on her boyfriend's chest. "Someone from the guidance office will pick you up outside and escort you to your first class. And you know where to find me for lunch, right?" I nodded. "Okay. Good luck! You're gonna be fine, don't worry. I'll see you later!" I rolled my eyes.

"Thanks, Mom." She released my wrist with a playful glare. "I'll see you guys," I added, before turning around, taking a deep breath, and walking back they way I came.

Lydia was right. I'd been there for the summer, and word had probably got around that Lydia Martin was friends with the new girl. People probably already knew me, so if I smiled, I was just being friendly. Not creepy, just friendly. That thought allowed my to keep a smile cemented to my face as I casually walked back out of the school to the bench out front. I got a few looks, nothing I couldn't handle, but it was a relief to be outside in the fresh air once more. I collapsed onto a bench with a relieved sigh, pulling my phone out of my purse to check the time.

"Um, hi." I jumped looking to my left to see that I was not alone. Another girl sat beside me, with a pretty, angular face, pale skin and dark eyes. She had on a grey V-neck shirt and tan jacket, dressed up with a scarf the same turquoise as my shirt. She peered up at me through curtains of dark hair, her hands clasped and fidgeting over the large purse that sat on her lap.

"Hi!" I said, a bit too loud. I winced at my own mistake, repeating myself softly. "Hi, sorry. Are you new?" She chuckled shooting her eyes away from me and biting her lip.

"That obvious?" I chuckled easily.

"Twitchy hands," I pointed out. "Me too." I held my hands up and hardly had to tense them at all before they began to tremble. The girl glanced over and visibly relaxed.

"You're a new student too?" she asked, as though she would hardly allow herself to believe it. I put on a lopsided grin.

"That obvious?" I quoted, and she ducked her head as she let out a graceful laugh. I extended one of my shaking hands to her. "Sadie Bennet." The girl looked back up, smiling warmly before accepting my hand.

"Allison Argent," she replied.

"Hi, Allison," I repeated. "Sorry about my kinda abrupt entrance. I was sort of trapped in my thoughts when I sat down." She shook her head.

"No, no it's fine. Trust me, I get that, especially on the first day. I'm pretty sure I got a letter and two phone calls reminding me that I was gonna be escorted in from out here, and I still wandered into the guidance office like a lost puppy." We laughed.

"Eh, don't worry. The only reason I remembered is because my friend Lydia's been reminding me every forty seconds."

"O-Oh, so you have friends here?" Her voice went up a little bit, as though I'd abandoned her in the status of "new girl." I nodded.

"A few. My mom and I moved in with one of her friends at the beginning of the summer, which is why I know Lydia. She's introduced me to a couple people. What about you?"

"Oh, we just moved in a week or two ago from San Francisco," she explained, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear in the breeze. "My dad moves a lot for his job, though, so I'm kind of used to being the new girl."

"Just cause you're used to it doesn't mean you have to like it," I said, and she nodded with an air of gratefulness for my understanding. "This is my first move, so even though I know a few people, I still kind of feel like I'm stepping into a new world."

"It's hard," she agreed. "I'd like to say that I felt the same way, but I was like two during our first move, so…" Allison trailed off and we laughed again for a few seconds. "So, why'd you and your mom decide to move?" she asked. I abruptly stopped laughing, ghost of a smile still on my face. Allison noticed my change in demeanor, her own smile quickly sliding off. "Oh, god, sorry. You don't have to answer that. God, the first person I talk to and I embarrass myself." I waved her off.

"No, don't worry about it. You're not gonna be the only person that asks today, just the first. My, uh… My dad died a couple months ago. He was a police officer, died in the line of duty." Allison sucked in her breath before tentatively resting her hand on my forearm.

"I'm so sorry." I nodded my head, not looking up. My right hand instinctively flew up to the cold dog tags around my neck, and breathing became a lot easier.

"Thanks." I attempted to tuck a strand of short hair behind my ear, but the breeze just blew it back up again. "And don't worry about the embarrassment thing. I already accidentally waved at someone I didn't know. At least I know it's not just me." Allison laughed loudly, obviously relieved of her embarrassment, as well as the fact our conversation wasn't dwelling on my father's death. Before she could reply, a trilling ring cut through the air. She closed her mouth, fumbling with her bag.

"Sorry, that's probably my mom. Again." I laughed.

"That's fine. I should probably text mine." I turned to my own phone, quickly opening a message to my mother that read, _"Made a new friend :) going to class now." _

"Mom, three calls on my first day is a little overdoing it," Allison chuckled into her phone. I grinned, sending my own message and zipping the phone back into my bag. "Everything except a pen," she continued, rummaging through her purse with a pained expression. "Oh my God, I didn't actually forget a pen!" I silently held up my purse, asking if she wanted me to look for an extra one for her. "No, no it's fine," she said, going back to looking in her bag. "Uh, my friend Sadie. She's new too." My heart swelled a little at the word "friend," and I grinned as Allison rolled her eyes and looked over to me. "My mom says hi."

"Hi, Mrs. Argent!" I called. Allison smiled, but stopped searching in her bag as she caught sight of something over my shoulder.

"Okay, okay. I gotta go. Love ya," she said hurriedly. I glanced around to see a man in a well pressed suit strolling out of the school, and stood up, brushing off my skirt. Allison stuffed her phone back into her purse, brushing her hair back and standing next to me as he approached.

"Hi there," he said in an amiable voice. "Sorry to keep you waiting. You must be Sadie Bennet."

"Yes, sir," I replied, shaking his offered hand and smiling brightly.

"Welcome to Beacon Hills. I'm Mr. Marcus. I see you've already met Allison." I nodded looking over at my newly proclaimed friend.

"Yeah, we were just talking about the terrors of being the new girl." Mr. Marcus laughed as Allison and I shared a look.

"Well, you two have your first class together, so hopefully we can ease some of that terror."

"Sounds good," Allison piped, and we all began to walk towards to school.

"So, Allison," Mr. Marcus began, allowing us to walk through the doors before shutting them behind us. "You were saying San Francisco isn't where you grew up." I grinned, realizing they were continuing some conversation that had started when Allison accidentally went to the office. She rolled her eyes at me before replying.

"No, but we lived there for more than a year, which is unusual in my family."

"Well, hopefully Beacon Hills will be your last stop for a while," he replied reassuringly, turning down the hallway to our right. "Here we are," he said, stopping in front of the first classroom. My stomach lurched and I shared a nervous look with Allison before we followed him into the room.

Twenty faces instantly looked up at the sound of the door opening, and all eyes were on us. Lydia's voice rang through my head, reminding me that I was an actress. I had their attention, now I all I had to do was show them I was worthy. I pictured Lydia in my mind and plastered a smile on my face. Pleasant, expectant, and completely not nervous.

"Class, these are our new students, Allison Argent and Sadie Bennet." I raised my hand in a slight wave at my name, while Allison shifted uncomfortably next to me. "Please do your best to make them feel welcome." Mr. Marcus nodded to us before walking out of the classroom. I glanced over to the teacher, a squat man in glasses and a sweater vest, as he gestured to the back right corner of the room. I grinned, nudging Allison towards the empty seats, before my eyes locked with a wide pair of familiar brown ones. My breathing hitched and I fought to keep the smile on my face. Acting. _"The poor boy probably went into shock because you paid him any attention at all,"_ Lydia's voice rang through my head. I could feel his eyes on me as Allison and I walked up the row between him and his friend.

"I thought you said you were nervous," Allison grumbled settling into the seat next to the pair of insistent brown eyes.

"I am. This confidence is one hundred percent acting," I replied, plopping down into the seat behind her and pulling out the class syllabus from underneath my books.

"Thanks," I heard Allison say, and I glanced up to see the other boy from this morning sitting in front of her. She took the pen he was offering, and he very slowly turned back around, his puppy dog eyes lingering on hers. I grinned devilishly, biting my lip as I watched the altercation. Though Mr. Neske, as the syllabus read, called the class to attention, I took a second to jab Allison in the back with my pen. She jumped, turning around glare at me. I pouted my lips, raising my eyebrows and glancing back and forth between her and the back of the boy in front of her. She rolled her eyes, but I could see the flush starting on her cheeks. I grinned openly in victory, and leaned back into my chair to enjoy the first lesson of my favorite subject – English.

Forty minutes later, I practically had to drag Allison out of the classroom so she wouldn't get stuck awkwardly staring at puppy boy. As soon as the bell rung he'd been immediately pulled into conversation, and I was both horrified and delighted to find that he was friends with my familiar pair of brown eyes. Thus, to avoid confrontation, I snatched up my books and Allison's arm, and steered her out of class.

The rest of the day was fairly uneventful. I had math with Danny and Jackson, and a few more classes with Lydia and Allison as well. Lydia was in my biology class, and we immediately sat down together as partners, only for the frustratingly familiar cute boy with brown eyes to sit in one of the chairs behind us. I found that I had several classes with him and his puppy dog friend, though I suppose that was to be expected with Beacon Hills being as small as it was. That didn't mean I was any less annoyed to find that we all had chemistry together, or to find we all had lunch the same period, even though I sat with Lydia and Jackson at a table far, far away.

When the final bell rang, I practically shoved Allison into the hallway, offering to walk her to her locker even though I was supposed to meet Lydia and Jackson at her locker and I was acutely aware of two pairs or brown eyes following us out of the room.

"What's with the rushed exit?" Allison laughed as she led the way to her locker.

"First day!" I chirped. "You don't want to be late, do you?" She shot me a look as she put in her combo, somehow able to spot the lie despite not having known me over an hour.

"It's the end of the day." I sighed.

"Sorry. The boy I accidentally waved to this morning was in there. I'm being evasive." My resigned tone made her laugh.

"That's more like it." She pulled out a few books and opened her mouth to say more, but trailed off as she looked over my shoulder. I glanced behind me to see the puppy boy from English frozen at his own locker across the hall. I grinned deviously again, spinning back to Allison and planting my shoulder on the wall.

"Oh? And what about you? What's up with puppy boy over there?" She shook from her daze, glancing back at me.

"Puppy boy?" she laughed, glancing back at him before looking at me. I shrugged.

"He's cute. Tall and tan, a nice mop of dark hair, and a huge pair of puppy eyes that seem," I paused, turning around and ignoring the presence of my own problematic stranger to see that he was still intently watching us, "to be only for you." Allison laughed breathily, but I could see the color in her cheeks. "Ah ah ah!" I laughed, pointing at her face. "That's a blush! I got ya!" She smiled over my shoulder at him again, but before she could say any more a familiar voice cut in.

"Sadie! There you are!" I looked around and spotted Lydia striding up to us. "This isn't my locker." I shook my head, victorious grin still on my face.

"Sorry, making friends." Lydia suddenly seemed to notice Allison's presence. She sat back on her heels, eyes scanning Allison's body in appraisal, the same look of scrutiny I received when I stepped on Lydia's doorstep. I cleared my throat, breaking Allison's eye contact with her hallway lover and his friend. "Lydia, this is Allison Argent, my fellow new student. Allison, this is Lydia Martin." Allison nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"Yeah, Sadie was talking about you earlier. Nice to meet you." Lydia remained silent, eyes travelling over Allison once as she thought over what she wanted to say.

"That jacket is absolutely killer," she decided, arms across her body as she played with one strawberry curl. "Where'd you get it?" Allison stared at her with an open mouth for a second, clearly caught off guard by a response that wasn't "nice to meet you too."

"My mom was a buyer for a boutique back in San Francisco," she answered, tossing her head and gripping onto her bag for security. I smiled reassuringly at her, sure Lydia would like that answer.

"And you are my new best friend," Lydia replied, pointing slowly at her. Allison smiled weakly but I was beaming. Allison didn't know it, but it was not a phrase that Lydia used lightly. She'd decided in those few moments that Allison was worth talking to, which meant she was well on her way to becoming the second true friend of the infamous yet loveable Lydia Martin.

"Hey!" I shot with fake indignation. Lydia rolled her eyes, waving me off.

"Sadie, shut up. You don't count, you're like my sister."

I laughed, holding up my hand in a gesture that said, "What can I say?" which made Allison chuckle as well. But before any of us could say anything else, Jackson appeared out of thin air, as he seemed to be making a habit of doing. He wrapped an arm around Lydia's waist and they shared a quiet greeting and a deep kiss. Allison glanced over at me in slight discomfort, causing me to shrug and scrunch up my face in slight distaste. I cleared my throat.

"Jackson!" I cheered, causing the couple to break apart. "Hey, Allison this is Jackson Whittlemore, Lydia's boyfriend." Allison smiled awkwardly as Lydia took over the introduction.

"Jackson, this is our new friend Allison Argent. Sadie's newbie buddy." I watched on as she fidgeted under Jackson's steady gaze and charming smile. "She's from San Francisco," Lydia added when he made no move to do anything else. He glanced down at her before offering a hand to Allison.

"Hey, welcome to Beacon Hills."

"Thanks," she said quietly, shaking his hand and jumping a bit when Lydia snatched her wrist.

"Oh my God, your bracelet is too cute!"

"Uh, thanks," Allison replied, holding her arm out so Lydia could twisty the dangling circle. "It was a gift from my aunt."

"If your family is this fashionable you are totally becoming the third member of our pack," Lydia complimented, but I could tell that Allison was still a tad uncomfortable.

"Sorry," I jumped in putting a hand on Allison's arm so that she could lower it and grip her bag strap for security once more. "Lydia's attracted to shiny things." My best friend huffed, but Allison let out a slightly more natural laugh.

"I'm not shiny," Jackson challenged.

"Your Porsche is," I replied, narrowing my eyes and smirking. He narrowed his as well and we were just preparing for battle when Lydia jumped in.

"So!" she exclaimed, settling into Jackson's side. "This weekend, there's a party."

"A party?" Allison repeated in a voice a tad higher than usual.

"My party," I injected with a smile. Jackson rolled his eyes.

"You're just the excuse," he bit before turning back to other new student. "It's Friday night. You should come."

"Uh, I can't," Allison said, shaking her head widely and rocking back on her heels. "It's family night this Friday. Thanks for asking." I shared a look with her, letting her know I knew she was lying but wasn't about to call her out on it. The happy couple didn't seem ready to let it go, though.

"You sure?" Jackson insisted. "I mean, it's Sadie's welcome party and all." I raised my eyebrows at his changed response and he sighed, rolling his eyes. "Everyone's going after the scrimmage."

"You mean like football?" Allison asked, perking up a bit. I grinned.

"Ha! Thank you, Allison!" She glanced over at me confused before turning back to Jackson's scowling face.

"Football's a joke in Beacon," he explained, giving me a pointed look. "The sport here's lacrosse. We've won the championship for the last three years."

"Because of a certain team captain," Lydia said with adoration, brushing back his short hair. I glanced over to Allison and mimed gagging, making her smile.

"Well, we have practice in a few minutes," Jackson insisted. "That is, if you don't have anywhere else…"

"Well, I was going to-," Allison started, before Lydia's hand snatched up her arm once more.

"Perfect!" She tilted her head to the side with that sweet but final smile. "You're coming." I grinned as Allison pitifully stared behind her at the boy as we walked away. I scooped in, snagging her arm from Lydia's hand and hooking it into mine.

"Come on, eyes front soldier," I said quietly. "You don't want to look desperate."

"Is it that bad?" she groaned. I glanced her a few times with what was probably a patronizing smile.

"You look like a five year old who dropped her ice cream cone." She glared at me playfully and I shook her a little bit. "Come on, we'll get you out on the bleachers and you can look at all the hot, sweaty lacrosse guys. Just what the doctor ordered."

"I should really get home and do some homework," she mused.

"Consider this your payment for not coming to my party." Allison glanced over at me, apparently afraid I was upset.

"I'm really sorry, Sadie," she started. "I'm just not…"

"Not a party person," I finished with a smile. "It's fine, I get it. But that doesn't mean you get out of lacrosse practice."

Eventually, Allison relented and agreed to come watch practice with us. The three of us walked Jackson to the locker room door, where Lydia left him with a deeply passionate good luck kiss, and then we walked out to the field. Since the boys were still playing, we took the long way at my insistence, and showed Allison around all the different sporting fields. By the time we walked up onto the lacrosse bleachers, the boys were already padded up and on the field. I glanced out over the field as I followed Lydia up along the third bench, spotting a familiar head of luscious brown locks.

"Well, well, well," I mused to Allison over my shoulder. "Look who it is." She glanced over and then followed my line of sight to the field, making eye contact with puppy boy once more. I had to tug on her arm to remind her to sit down as she gaped at him. "See?" I asked, drawing her attention as the coach marched up to him, forcing him to look away.

"What?" she asked.

"Aren't you glad you came to lacrosse practice now?" Allison laughed, biting her lip and pretended she wasn't watching his back as he strode away towards the goal. I glanced around the field again, easily picking out Jackson and Danny, as well as the other boys on the team I knew. I rolled my eyes as Dylan waved at me, turning to scan the unfamiliar faces on the bench…until they stopped being unfamiliar. My eyes trailed across a warm pair of brown ones for what felt like the hundredth time that day. The familiar boy, forever reminding me of my embarrassment, was staring up in our direction from the end of the bench. Thankfully, he seemed just as embarrassed that I'd caught him, and promptly turned around to face the field, ducking his head and bouncing his leg the same way I did when I was nervous.

"Who is that?" I turned my head to look at Allison, who had leaned forward to talk to Lydia, her eyes still on the puppy playing goalie.

"Him?" Lydia asked, nodding over to the goal before pausing. "I'm not sure who he is." The boy's helmet turned our way and I shook my head with a smile as he shamelessly watched Allison from where he stood. "Why?" Lydia asked, clearly annoyed the Allison thought anyone Lydia didn't know was worth knowing. Allison shrugged.

"He's in my English class," she replied smoothly. I had to put in physical effort to avoid snorting.

"Because he's totally into her." Lydia giggled, and Allison's jaw dropped.

"Shut up!" she laughed, and I held up my hands in surrender. Before she could reprimand me any further, the whistle blew and the players began to fall into line. I could feel Lydia tense up next to me, bristling with excited anticipation. We turned to the field as the boys got into line, all ready to shoot at the goal.

The first player tossed the ball. Unfortunately, the poor goalie, who hadn't even been holding his stick, got nailed in the face and went down hard. The crowd collectively groaned and laughed, jeering at the boy.

"Yowzah," I winced, sharing a concerned look with Allison as Lydia giggled once more. Apparently, he was unscathed, as a few seconds later he climbed up and brushed himself off, gripping the goalie stick tightly. I held my breath for Allison's sake as the next ball went flying…straight into the waiting pocket. I breathed out with a smile. Blocked. He seemed surprised himself, as he glanced down at the ball at the end of his stick.

After that, the balls seemed to be flying continuously. A cheer started up from the stands as the unnamed player caught ball after ball after ball.

"He seems like he's pretty good," Allison said with a smile.

"Yeah, very good," Lydia agreed, now watching him just as intently as Allison and I. My smile faltered as I glanced across the field to the thinning queue of boys. Jackson was pushing his way to the front, slapping another boy with his lacrosse stick to have a go at the goalie himself.

"Uh oh," I breathed. I felt both of my friends tense up, Allison with worry and Lydia with brutal excitement. Jackson sprinted forward as fast as he could, leaped high into the air and then with all his strength, hurled the ball towards the goal. My hand flew up over my eyes, terrified of the intense speed the ball had been travelling.

Suddenly, a ridiculous cheer went up, and Lydia jumped to her feet on my left screaming. I opened my eyes to see the goalie staring down at his stick, where Jackson's vicious ball now lay completely harmless. I joined in with Allison's laughter, hugging her to my side and cheering. My laughter doubled as the familiar boy began jumping around in celebration, and I caught Jackson glaring at Lydia from the field. I yanked her down next to me as the unnamed puppy dog suavely tossed the ball to someone else behind his back.

"Settle down, Lyd. You don't want Jackson to blow his top and kill the new-found talent." Allison laughed, but Lydia just kept on smiling that dangerous, determined smile of hers.

"I'm gonna find out who that is," she said adamantly. "I am definitely going to find out who that boy is." I grinned, raising my eyebrows at Allison as Lydia essentially gave her approval of the boy.

The rest of practice featured the new boy being just as impressive as he had at the start. Jackson also seemed to be upping his game, but all anyone seemed to be talking about was that talented boy that no one knew. Even Lydia was distracted from her captain-of-the-championship-winning-lacrosse-team boyfriend. When practice was over, we hardly hung around to talk to Jackson. As soon as he came out of the locker room, Lydia gave him a quick peck goodbye and told him that she'd see him tomorrow. With that, and a seriously pissed of look fro Jackson, like literally borderline murderous, Lydia took an arm from Allison and myself and dragged us to her car, promising to drop Allison off at home. I swapped numbers with her in the car, and waved enthusiastically at her parents when the stepped onto the porch when we pulled up. The moment Allison was inside, Lydia was speeding off again, definitely breaking a few speed limits and barely pausing for stop sign. We careened into the driveway, and the blink of an eye, Lydia was speeding into the house, up the stairs, and into her room.

I actually managed to clear my head for a few hours after that. I chatted to my mom about school over a yogurt, repeated the story to a couple old friends on Facebook, and settled down with some music to do my homework. When I was finished, I gratefully opened my laptop again, deciding to try and hunt down Allison. Just as I sent the friend request, the door to my room flew open.

"Scott McCall," Lydia announced with pride, a red book tucked under her arm.

"What?" I asked, chuckling at her excitement as she scurried over to my desk.

"Scott McCall," she repeated simply and fervently. She slammed the book down on my desk, flicking it open and brandishing a finger down at the page. "Scott. McCall."

It was a yearbook. Lydia's evidently, from the previous year. She must have looked through every single picture in the book, just in case he wasn't in our grade or on the team previously. But there, staring up at me from underneath Lydia's glossy fingernail, was puppy boy. His hair was a little shorter and his face a little chubbier, but there was no mistaking those twinkling brown eyes.

"Well I'll be damned," I muttered with a grin, as Lydia sat down on top of my desk, looking exhausted. I reached for my phone.

"What are you doing?" she asked. I beamed down at my phone, wearing the same expression Lydia had when Scott had caught Jackson's first ball.

"Texting Allison." I opened up the new message.

_"Your little stray puppy's name is Scott McCall ;) You're welcome."_

"I can't believe I didn't know his name," Lydia was muttering to herself. "I mean, he's in our grade, he's in our classes, and he was on the team last year too! I checked!" I laughed.

"Okay, so he practiced over the summer to prove he was worthy of attention, so what?" I tugged the book out of her grasp. "Come on, I wanna see everyone else."

We spend the next hour or so pouring over Lydia's yearbook. She pointed out all the embarrassing pictures of the people I knew, and we laughed and criticized some of the few comments people had left. Every second, I was fighting the urge to pull the book towards me and look through every picture for a certain pair of brown eyes. If I could just put a name to his face, I thought it might help. But I didn't want Lydia questioning me about it, and I figured it probably wasn't worth my time anyway. The year would go on and I would probably never even speak to him. Or, if Allison and Scott ever became a thing, I might get a name that way.

Fact of the matter was, there wasn't any possible situation that would cause the familiar brown-eyed boy to be friends with me.


	3. Chapter 3

I woke up the next morning to the sound of my alarm clock and smiled. Lydia had agreed to let me sleep in if I compromised by waking up fifteen minutes earlier. Today I was being pushed out of the bird's nest, so to speak, and was actually allowed to get dressed and do my makeup on my own. So long as I got Lydia's outfit approval before we left.

I fumbled with my phone as I sat up and wiped the tiredness from my eyes, surprised to find that I had a new text from Allison. I furrowed my brow, opening the message.

_"Talked to Scott! I NEED to talk to you! See you at school :)"_

Suddenly, I was full of energy. I jumped out of bed, barely pausing to pull the covers back up before tripping over to my closet. I pulled out a denim skirt and a matching cropped jacket, a pair of black ankle boots, and a vibrant pink blouse with a hanging scoop neck, which I decided to wear with a white tank top. I grabbed a pair of stockings and quickly got changed before sprinting to the bathroom.

I was ready in record time, and was pleasantly surprised to find that Lydia approved my outfit on the first try.

"Sadie!" she cheered when she found me downstairs, downing a glass of juice. "Oh, look at that jacket. I am so proud of you." I tried not to look too anxious or jittery as Lydia took her time in the kitchen. Allison was still new, and I could tell that Lydia's intensity had caught her off guard. The last thing she needed was for me to tell Lydia she'd talked to Scott McCall, Lydia's new point of fascination, because she'd be down her throat demanding details in an instant.

Finally, still ahead of schedule, Lydia and I made our way to the car and began a drive to school that was much slower and safer than our return trip the day before. My eyes continuously scanned the road for familiar cars, and the hallway for familiar faces once we got to school. Lydia was distraction by Jackson's appearance at her locker, and I waved her off, assuring her that I knew how to get to my English class and that I would see her later. She was due for a _very _intense make out session with Jackson, as we had discussed the night before, to make up for her cheering and abrupt flight after practice yesterday.

For a few minutes, I waited by Allison's locker, bouncing ever so slightly on my feet and glancing back and forth. That plan was scrapped almost immediately by the arrival of Scott and his brown-eyed friend. Puppy boy glanced over, no doubt also looking for Allison, and smiled when he met my eye. I politely threw a knowing smile back at him, deciding I'd rather wait at my desk than in the hallway, in case he tried to talk to me.

I returned to the same seat as the day before, pretending to be completely immersed in Kafka when Scott and his friend walked through the door. I could feel their glances, but was relieved when neither of them tried talking to me. My eyes continuously glanced up at the clock. Only a minute before class…

Just before the bell rang, Allison sped through the door. She was grinning widely despite the fact the she was running late. Her smile brightened even more when she passed Scott, looking at him through her lashes and giving a small wave. I wanted to smile at their cuteness, but instead I just tapped my foot impatiently.

"Hey, sorry," she said to me as she dropped her bag and books.

"Sorry?" I repeated. "Where have you been?!" Her eyes widened a bit at my insistence, but she giggled.

"Sorry, I had to wait for my dad to get off the phone before he could drive me." She sat down and turned to the front of the room. I grabbed at her shoulder.

"No, no, no! You have to tell me what happened!" I hissed. Allison bit her lip, glancing at Scott's back, which was completely still as his head tipped towards us a bit. She shook her head.

"I'll tell you during lunch." She turned back to her desk, opening her notebook and bouncing a bit. I glared in disbelief.

"Unbelievable," I huffed, collapsing back into my seat.

While I did legitimately enjoy English, and I answered several of Mr. Neske's questions on existentialism, I spent a large portion of the class tapping my foot against the leg of Allison's chair just to annoy her for her inconvenience. Instead of being bothered, she seemed to harbor great amusement at my annoyance, somehow enjoying that I was so invested in her love life after twenty-four hours.

When the bell rang, I rounded on her, ready for answers, only to find she was standing up and facing Scott.

"So," she said quietly, glancing around and reaching into her bag. "I just wanted to say thanks again for last night. Sorry I was such a wreck."

"I-It's fine," Scott assured her, his voice soft and gleeful. I could practically see his puppy ears perk up at the attention.

"I believe this is yours," she said, pulling out a large folded T-shirt from her bag. Scott blushed. "Thanks for letting me borrow it."

"Glad I could help," he replied, gently taking it back. I stared at the couple with wide eyes and an open mouth, a very similar expression to Scott's brown-eyed friend who stood in the isle next to us.

"Nope!" I squeaked, drawing all eyes on me. I pulled my purse up and slammed my hands on Allison's shoulder. "Oh, that's it. Go, go, go!" Even as I steered her out of the room, she giggled, staring at Scott over her shoulder until I shoved her out into the hall. "You had his shirt?!" I squealed, trying to keep my voice down. "Why did you have his shirt?!" Allison laughed nervously, shaking her head violently and glancing at the door.

"No, no, it's nothing like that. Look, I'll tell you during lunch okay?" I glared at her intently.

"Ugh, you so owe me," I growled, stomping off to my math class. I was pleased to find that Jackson looked considerably happier than he had the day before, and Danny didn't press to ask why I looked so frustrated.

The rest of the day was spent anxiously bouncing my leg and speeding from class to class, as if that would make lunch come sooner. I managed to pay a decent amount of attention in all my classes, but when lunch period came around, I sprinted towards the cafeteria. Luckily, this time around Allison seemed just as anxious to talk to me, and we were two of the first to show up for lunch. We grabbed food and sat down at the same table I had sat at yesterday. I slammed my tray down.

"Okay," I began. "Talk fast because this place is going to fill up, and Lydia will be here soon." Allison smiled at my enthusiasm and launched into the story of her accident. Apparently, she'd been driving late in the rain to grab some things from the store from her mom and hit a poor dog. She'd taken him to the animal clinic, only to find that the only employee on duty was the intriguing Scott McCall. He'd taken the dog inside and expertly calmed it down and put a splint on it's broken leg. He'd given Allison an extra shirt from his bag, since she was drenched from the rain, and joked around with her in his quiet voice until she'd stopped crying about the dog. Allison blushed as she recounted their flirting, and eventually how he'd asked her to go to the party with him before she left. I furrowed my brow when she mentioned how he'd asked about Argent family night. I'd been with Allison the rest of the day after she told that lie, and I knew it hadn't been brought up again. I hadn't mentioned it, and I was sure Lydia hadn't mentioned it to anyone because she was too concentrated on researching Scott. And there was absolutely no way he would have been able to hear us from down and across the busy hallway. But eventually I shrugged it off. Maybe she'd skipped some part where she'd mentioned it to Scott at the clinic, or Jackson had told another lacrosse player that the new girl wasn't coming to the party because of some stupid family night. I moved onto more important questions.

"So are you coming to the party?" I asked excitedly. She nodded bashfully.

"Definitely."

"Ah!" I clapped my hands. "Thank you, Scott McCall!" We giggled for a few seconds before I sobered up, taking a sip of my drink. "No but seriously, Allison," I started. "I'm so glad that you're coming, especially that you're coming with Scott. Good for you." She smiled at me sweetly.

"Thanks, Sadie. Not just for that, but you know…for actually caring. About any of this." I grinned.

"That's what friends are for. Us new girls have to stick together." We laughed again, but shared a smile that mutually agreed that we were actually friends now, not just two new girls sticking together for security. And that thought made me really happy.

Soon after that, Lydia showed up with Jackson and some other members of her clique. She was busy dishing her friend Maya the details she'd found out about Scott McCall, and all her theories about why he'd suddenly gotten so good. While it was annoying to hear Jackson interrupt every other minute to insist the boy was on steroids, it allowed Allison and I to continue our own conversation. We threw around ideas for outfits to wear to the party, and I promised her that I would spend every minute until the party trying to keep her calm.

And I did. We texted each other pictures of outfits, and I relayed the coaching I had received from Lydia about beauty and party etiquette. Allison was already ten times better off than I had been at the beginning of the summer anyway. It seemed like I wasn't really teaching her so much as repeating things she already knew in order to keep a level head. I knew she hadn't been expecting to date at Beacon Hills, and Scott's puppy face falling into her lap had taken her completely by surprise. She was a little shook up, but I just kept reminding her that she was a beautiful, kind girl and it was pretty obvious Scott was already infatuated with her.

On Friday, I convinced her to accompany Lydia and I to the lacrosse scrimmage to show her support for Scott. Jackson's irritability that morning had assured me that Scott was continuing to do extremely well in practice, something he was certainly not happy about. Everyone was excited to see who would come out victorious, the renowned team captain or the newfound talent. Of course, it wasn't really a competition but a game to try out for first line. But come on, we all knew it was really a competition.

After classes were over, the three of us made our way to the crowded field. Allison waved to Scott, who lifted his hand in a daze before being startled by the coach. I practically snorted at the sight, extremely amused by his dreamy expression. Allison lightly smacked my arm.

"Jackson better step up his game today," Lydia muttered, staring at the huddle of boys on the field intently. I shrugged.

"He's the captain, Lyd. He's gonna make first line anyway."

"I'm not worried about him making first line," she snipped. "I'm _worried_ about him reminding everyone why he's the team captain. Scott McCall may be good, but he's not better than Jackson Whittlemore."

"You mean, he's not allowed to be better than Jackson," I added slyly, smirking. Lydia glared.

A cheer went up on the field, signaling the start of the scrimmage. I'd learned to enjoy lacrosse during the summer. I'd watched a few videos with Jackson, just so he could explain the rules, and sat in on one or two practices, but this was the first real game I got to watch. It was violent, so it was about as entertaining as football, just a little harder to tell who had the ball from a distance.

And Jackson hadn't been lying. The Beacon Hills Lacrosse team was good. Really good. Even the boys who were clearly benchwarmers had pretty good aim and speed, if they ever got the ball. The ball flew back and forth between nets, and I stopped trying to watch the ball as much as figure out what was happening by watching the movements of the players. It was obvious some boys were there for their swiftness, while other boys dominated the field with brute force.

Suddenly, Scott had the ball. He froze for a moment before he was slammed into the ground, hard. I winced as the play above him lifted his helmet, and I recognized Jackson's chiseled jaw. I rolled my eyes at the obvious competition of testosterone, but Lydia nearly squeaked with pride next to me. I could practically see the determination rolling off him in waves as Scott picked himself up and rolled his shoulders, ready to go again.

Jackson and Scott were butting heads throughout the entire game. Other players rotated in and out, everyone needing to play at least once for it to be considered a try out, but Jackson and Scott seemed to be permanent players on the field, being pushed to their limits. Finally they were head to head, facing each other in the center of the field before the ball was dropped between them.

And then Scott was off like a bullet, leaving Jackson frozen in the middle of the field. He whipped his arm over one player, the pure force of the swing the only thing keeping the ball in the net. He was damn fast, faster than anyone else I'd noticed on the team. He spun around player after player, weaving in and out as he made his way to the goal without passing once. As a last ditch effort, three players rushed him at once, and I tensed, preparing for the sound of bone crunching as he hit the ground. But he didn't go down. In fact, he went distinctly _up_. In an instant he had jumped up, shoulder first, completely flipping over the three defensive players, who all stumbled, falling to the ground. As if that wasn't enough of a shock, the boy landed on his feet, ball still in the net until he launched it at the goal, where it slid between the surprised goalie's feet.

Allison and I shot up, cheering wildly and laughing. Scott was rushed by the rest of the team, attempting to either hug him in celebration of the amazing shot or maul him for the lethal look on Jackson's face. The crowd quieted down when the coach brandished an arm, screaming for Scott's attention.

"What's wrong?" Allison asked, eyeing the coach's back as he yelled, waving his arms shakily.

"I don't know," I admitted, clasping my hands under my chin. "But if he doesn't make first line after that shot I say we protest."

Then the coach slapped on the shoulder and began clapping. We were cheering before we even knew what we were cheering for. It wasn't until I heard a boy on the bench yell, "Yeah, McCall! First line, wooh!" that I really began clapping.

"Oh my god, he did it!" Allison cheered, shaking my shoulder. "Scott made first line!" We both cheered maniacally, while Lydia remained seated, clapping politely at my side.

We managed to calm down by the end of the game a few minutes later. The rest of the calls had been made as expected, with all the expected boys making first line alongside Scott. When the game was called, Allison sped off to congratulate Scott and nail down the specifics of their date. I awkwardly played on my phone as Lydia passionately congratulated/consoled Jackson as he emerged from the locker room. But she finally pulled away, assuring him that she'd meet him at his house in a few minutes.

Instead of dropping me off at home, I asked Lydia to drop me off at the Beacon Hills Public Library. She eyed the building with distaste as I climbed out of the Beetle.

"Why are you working on a Friday night?" she demanded. "We have _your_ party in a couple hours and I haven't even confirmed your dress or started decorating yet."

"I'm just covering a shift," I assured her. "Look, just go have sex with Jackson or something and come pick me up at six o'clock." She tossed her hair in annoyance, waving me off before she sped over to her boyfriend's house. I sighed and walked into the building.

I'd started working at the library over the summer. Sure, we didn't necessarily need to put money toward the house, since the Martins had that completely covered, but Mom insisted I get a job for the formality of getting my own spending money. The library was nice. Over the summer I could take out a book every time I left, and now it would be a good place to do my homework undisturbed when it wasn't busy. That's exactly what I did for the first hour, sitting behind the circulation desk answering chemistry problems. No one was in on a Friday evening, except a handful of usuals, elderly people and quiet students who had nothing better to do. I was interrupted mid-equation by Mrs. Sasso, the head librarian.

"Sadie, I'll watch the desk," she started. "Would you mind re-shelving these and trying to help a person or two? I'm not paying you to do schoolwork." The statement was meant to be an admonishment, but I knew Mrs. Sasso liked me too much to be upset with my diligence. I smiled.

"Will do, ma'am," I answered, standing up and grabbing a handful of books to return to the shelves. I'd gotten fairly good at shelving, and hardly had to pause anymore to know which books went where.

It was on my third trip to the shelves that my stomach dropped to the floor. I spun out of the isle I was standing in, clutching my last book to my chest and closing my eyes. I knew I couldn't very well walk away. Mrs. Sasso literally just finished telling me I was supposed to be assisting people, and she would definitely notice that I was over here and left him standing there. I took a deep breath and turned into the isle. I placed the book in its rightful place on the shelf before turning to my company.

"Can I help you?" I asked quietly. The boy froze, snapping his head toward me to assault me with his familiar brown eyes. He had extremely short brown hair and pale skin, easily showing the splotchy, flushed patches in his cheeks. But he had a sharp jaw and prominent cheekbones too, not as strong as Jackson's but still enough to deserve a second look. He was dressed simply in a white T-shirt, thin black jeans and sneakers, his arms spread over the shelf, long fingers grazing books as he searched. But those eyes were by far his best feature. They were brown, yes, but not just an ordinary brown like most eyes. His were markedly lighter, a darker ring around the iris giving them some sort of magical depth, and he had long, dark eyelashes that stood out against his pale skin, especially on the bottom. And he was still staring right at me. I raised my eyebrows in a way that made me seem much more confidant than I felt. The boy cleared his throat, stepping back from the shelf and stuffing his hands into his pockets.  
"W-What? O-oh, no, no, nah, I'm, I'm good." He nodded fervently, pouting his lips in consideration. I glanced him over once more as he hunched his shoulders and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet.

"O-kay," I conceded quietly, before backing out of the isle. A few seconds later, his distressed voice called me back, and I turned around to see him scrambling after me.

"W-wait! Okay yeah—um—could you just like, point me in the direction of the—uh—mythology section? Fantasy research or something?" My face brightened and I smiled.

"Yeah, sure," I agreed easily. I waved him over and walked into the isle on the other side of the shelf he'd been studying. "Looking for anything in particular?"

"Oh, nah, n-not really," he replied carelessly. "You know, mostly like…werewolves or something." He shrugged. I nodded, turning to the familiar shelf and snagging a book about the lunar cycle and its effects on mythical creatures. I handed it to him, but kept my eyes on the shelf.

"So," I started slowly, my own fingers now skimming the books as I debated whether or not I wanted to start a conversation. But I'd already said "so," and I couldn't very well leave it like that. Additionally, the quiet familiarity of his face got to me, and I just wanted to try and place it. "What are the books for?"

"Hm? O-oh, just an essay," he brushed off. I shot him a glance and disbelieving smile.

"You're writing an essay on werewolves?" I asked, and giggled. I inwardly cringed. I sounded like Lydia. When did I start giggling? "What classes are _you_ taking?"

"Oh!" he said, before laughing nervously. "Oh, it's for…English," he replied slowly. He seemed to think that answer was good enough, and rushed into a convincing explanation. "Yeah, you know cause my class just finished _Metamorphosis _so I'm writing a paper on other kinds of transformations." I smiled, handing him two more books.

"Oh that's really interesting," I complimented. He grinned proudly, giving an energetic shrug and a scoff as if to say, "Ha! It's nothing." I let him have his moment before I finished the sentence. "Cause I'm pretty sure I'm in your English class." His face immediately went blank as he stared at me.

"Right," he said in defeat, his face screwing up in a huge defeated wince. "Because you're Allison's friend. Damnit." He stomped a little at being caught, causing me to let out a horrid giggle once more. I took a calming breath.

"Sadie Bennet," I introduced with a small smirk, holding out my hand. He snapped his head to look at me, his face once more contorting into a mask of confusion and disbelief as he stared back and forth between my face and hand. But at this distance, I could see that it was pleasant disbelief, which was reassuring. He finally snapped out of it, taking my hand in his.

"R-right, you're—uh—you're living with Lydia right?" I nodded, looking at him expectantly as he smiled. Finally his eyes went wide. "Oh! Sorry! Stiles Stilinski."

_"Stiles Stilinski," _I repeated in my head. While I was relieved to have a name, even if it was just so I could stop calling him "the familiar brown-eyed boy" in my head, it didn't do much to jog my memory, and I was left feeling a little bitter. Maybe I'd just passed him at the grocery store, or seen him walk by in the street. I realized that while I'd been contemplating his name in my head, neither of us had let go of each other's hand. I hurriedly, yet reluctantly, pulled my hand out of his warm one, clearing my throat.

"Well, Stiles," I began, grabbing a step stool so I could gaze along the top shelf at eye level. "Whatever you need these books for, I've found that the older they are, the better. Otherwise the mythology gets tainted by stuff like Twilight or Vampire Diaries." He chuckled as I pulled a large book from the top shelf, the red binding peeling with age. I dropped it into his hands, letting him scrutinize it as I climbed down and pushed the stepstool away. He flipped the book over, flipping through a few pages before he looked back at me.

"You know what lycanthropy is?" he asked simply, evidently surprised that I hadn't even hesitated to grab the book. I simply shrugged with a secretive smile. Besides being a writer and an artist, I'd harbored a deep love of mythology since I was a kid. Myths turned into magic, and soon I was reading anything I could get my hands on, whether it be about Greek gods or the Loch Ness Monster. He stared at me for a few seconds as I leaned against the bookshelf, arms across my chest. I bit my lip.

"Anything else?" He jumped, and the panicked look on his face jogged something in my memory. He ran a hand over his hair and stared intently down at the books.

"Ah, no—yeah this is good." I chuckled.

"Come on, I'll check you out."

"Huh? Oh! The books! Yes, the books need to be checked out. Right." He said, laughing nervously again as he followed me to the counter. I shook my head, grinning all the same. Suddenly, it hit me.

"Stiles?" I asked.

"Hm?" he hummed, head snapping to me with wide eyes as I stepped behind the counter. Mrs. Sasso had disappeared, along with the last set of books I was meant to be shelving.

"You don't drive a blue Jeep do you?" He opened and closed his mouth once or twice.

"Um, uh yeah actually. That's mine, why?"

"Oh, nothing," I dismissed. I reached over the counter to grab the books he was still holding close to his chest. I pushed them down on the table slowly slid them toward me, leaning in and whispering, "It's just that I saw you drive by the house about fifty times this summer. Didn't recognize you when you weren't trying to look casual behind the steering wheel." His sharp intake of breath, inadvertently leading to a coughing fit, let me know I'd hit the nail right on the head. I sat back in my chair, scanning the books and stamping the cards as he tried to compose himself. "So, you've got a thing for Lydia?"

"W-What?" he half coughed, half laugh. "N-No! Why would you think something crazy like that?" I looked at him pointedly, unimpressed.

"Besides the fact that you practically staked out our house over the summer? Probably that your first response to me was 'you live in Lydia's house' and not 'you're new.'" He tossed his head to the side with an embarrassed, sickly look of concession. I paused, looking at my hands as I placed the stack of books on the counter in front of him. "There's a party tonight," I added abruptly, not completely sure why.

"What?"

"There's a party at our house tonight. Everyone's invited. Think you're coming?" He dragged the books toward him with a sigh.

"Eh, I know, but 'everyone's invited' usually means 'everyone but nobodies,' so probably not." I furrowed my brow.

"You should." He looked back at me, again taken aback that I hadn't just accepted his answer. "I mean, you're friends with Scott right? And he's taking Allison, so…" I trailed off, waiting for his face to change, but he just stood there, books against his chest, staring at me. I changed tactics, instead teasing, "Come on, don't pretend you're not dying to be invited to Lydia's." I shrugged, pulling on a smile. "Consider this your formal invitation." He opened and closed his mouth once more before taking a step back.

"Uh, sure," he replied, a small smile growing on his face. "Yeah, no, I'll uh…I'll see you there. Thanks, Sadie." I smiled brightly.

"Anytime." He nodded experimentally before adding more force and surety to the action. He waved and turned to leave. Just before he made it to the doors, I stopped him. "Oh, and Stiles?"

"Yeah?" he asked, turning his head back and leaning on the door.

"Let me know if there's a persisting werewolf problem, yeah? I'm pretty sure the full moon's tonight." His eyes went wide for a moment before he let out a high laugh.

"Aha! Funny, yeah!" He was abruptly shushed by an elderly woman reading in an armchair by the door. "Right! N-no. Shh! Sorry! Bye!" And with that he ran out the door, arms flailing as he tried to run, hold his books and fish for his keys at the same time. I giggled into my hand.

I wasn't quite sure why I'd suddenly invited Stiles to the party. I didn't have the excuse of needed to figure out who he was, as I now knew where I knew him from. In fact, that made the entire situation worse. Who invited a guy to their house when they know he's been doing creepy drive-bys for the last three months? But Stiles didn't seem like a bad guy. A little awkward and jittery, sure, but if I hadn't been friends with Lydia, I might be the same way. Besides, I reminded myself, I just invited him to a party that the whole school was going to. It wasn't a date, and I didn't even have to see him. It just meant that I was being friendly. Yes.

That thought stayed firmly in my mind as I finished up my work duties and homework. At six o'clock, I waved goodbye to Mrs. Sasso and strolled outside and into Lydia's car. I let her chat the whole ride home about Jackson, how he was being a baby whining about Scott's supposed drug usage.

"I mean, everyone in pro sports does it," she complained, making a sharp left turn that jerked me in my seat. "He's just got to man up and either get better or go get some himself."

Despite her annoyance with him, I was then treated to a one sided conversation about the perks of a frustrated Jackson in terms of their physical relationship. Something I was obligated to sit through as a car passenger and best friend, but not something I was particularly keen on thinking about at the moment.

We pulled into the driveway a few torturous minutes later, parking behind my mom's minivan. I glanced around as I got out, noticing the absence of Miss Eleanor's cherry red vehicle.

"Where's Mom squared?" I asked, lugging my bag onto my shoulder and grabbing two of the shopping bags Lydia had in the back.

"Taking the night off," she dismissed, leading the way up the steps to the front door with her own bags. "I think they went to the city for dinner and a show. They're staying overnight."

"And did they decide this before or after you decided to throw a welcome party?" I laughed, narrowing my eyes. Lydia feigned surprise as she unlocked the front door.

"Why, Sadie! What are you implying?" I raised my eyebrows and stared at her until she deflated. "Okay, so I might have given them a little push out of the house, but they know we're having people over! And Jackson's gonna stay the night."

"Joy," I muttered, beginning to unpack the bags of chips and dip.

"And that means you'll be free to keep someone over too," she added slyly. I was only shocked for a moment before I rolled my eyes.

"Not happening, Lydia."

"Oh come on," she begged. "Dylan Peters seems pretty interested in you!"

"Yeah, and I'm pretty interested in getting him neutered for the good of the human race." Lydia paused for a moment before cocking her head to the side.

"Fair point."

Lydia only threw out a few more names before she dropped the subject of hooking me up. I was grateful. Not that there weren't several good-looking boys on the lacrosse team, but I was severely and utterly inexperienced, especially compared to Lydia. The lacrosse boys were intimidating enough without me fretting over whether or not they thought I was "good enough." Just dealing with school, making friends, and my dad's passing was enough on my plate for now, thanks.

My brain vaguely recalled the conversation I'd had with Allison about how she had also specifically planned to not date. I tried not to think about how well that plan was working out for her.

"So what are we doing first?" I asked, turning around and leaning my back against the counter.

"Precautionary measures," she instructed with her usual determination. "Taking everything on any surface out of sight so it doesn't get damaged or stolen." She was distracted from her battle plan as her tiny dog, Prada, pranced into the kitchen. Lydia cooed, scooping up the ball of black, white and brown fur and scratching behind her ears. "So! Why don't you start on that, and I will feed Prada and set her up in her own little room! Don't want you running around when the house is full of strangers who could step on you, do we?" I chuckled, petting Prada behind the ears as well and smiling at the dog's ecstatic expression.

"So just put stuff away?" I clarified.

"Yup! Lower cabinets, mostly. People won't usually disturb those, and anything bigger like my mother's vases can go in the extra guest room upstairs." I nodded, turning to get to work.

Lydia's house was huge, and it actually took me a fair amount of time to make sure the first floor was a completely drunk-friendly zone. It actually took me twice as long as it might have, considering that when Lydia said, "start on that" she actually meant, "please do this while I play with my dog until you are done." I was a little annoyed, but not altogether surprised. It also meant that poor Prada was so tuckered out she'd probably sleep through the whole party, which meant I wouldn't have to continuously check on her throughout the night. Lydia only look slightly abashed when I walked into Prada's "room" ages later, slightly out of breath from what felt like hundreds of trips up and done the stairs, to see her sitting on the floor with the puppy in her lap.

"Well, I've put away literally everything I can think of. Short of Greenburg busting down a door, we should be safe."

"Perfect!" She grinned, but was interrupted by the sound of the door opening and closing.

"Lydia?" the familiar voice of an irate lacrosse captain shouted from the front hall. Lydia's face lit up.

"Jackson's here!" she piped, more to inform Prada than me. She kissed the dog on the nose before laying her down in her bed and skipping past me into the hallway. The puppy's ears perked up as I looked at her with a miserable expression.

"God help me, Prada." She whined once before snuggling into her bed and rolling on her side. Even the dog didn't want to help me out. I shook my head with a smile, closing the door and walking into the front hall for more instructions from our senior party coordinator.

"You're just in time," Lydia was saying to her boyfriend. "You can help set up the stereo and the sound system!" Jackson glowered as he stripped off his expensive looking leather jacket, handing it to her.

"I can't believe you brought me over early just to use me for set up," he grumbled. She slid a hand comfortingly down his arm.

"You're not just for set up. I just can't do the heavy lifting." She shrugged before turning to me and adding, "Or tall people things."

"Tall people things?" I repeated, bemused.

"Mhm! You," she started, scurrying over to the kitchen counter and pulling a box out of one of her shopping bags, "are on fairy light duty!"

"Are you serious?" I sighed, and she almost looked affronted.

"Of course I am! They go over the pool for ambiance! Trust me, it's gonna look killer with the pool reflection when it gets dark. There are already hooks on the edge of the roof and over by the fence. You just have to find them and zigzag them across." She grinned up at me brightly as I continued to stare blankly at her, holding the first box loosely in my hand. "The ladder's in the shed," she added as an afterthought.

"And what are you gonna do?" I asked.

"Snacks!" With a final smile she turned on her heel. "Come on, Jackson, the tables are back here."

Jackson and I enjoyed a moment of solidarity as we shared a mutual look of resigned annoyance. Finally he sighed, patted me on the shoulder, and trailed off after his girlfriend.

I don't know if you've ever tried to hang lights by yourself, but it's difficult. Extremely difficult. Ten minutes in, I was fuming. I mean, Lydia had me working with electric lights, by myself, over water. How much more dangerous could the job get? I had no one to hold the ladder steady as I reached as far as I could on the top rung, and I had to constantly reposition it, either forward or backward to actually find the hook, and then to the opposite side of the pool to hunt for the next one. My only consolation was that Jackson looked just as miserable as I felt. His job was markedly easier, positioning tables and then hooking up the stereo speakers outside, but he seemed to feel equally inconvenienced. Just as he offered to help me with the lights, Lydia had called him inside to help her bring all the snacks and cups out to the tables.

However annoyed I was, I couldn't bring myself to actually be mad at Lydia. She struggled with her perfectionism, which meant two parts of her were constantly at war: the part that didn't want to do any work besides choosing an outfit, and the part that didn't trust anyone else to get what she wanted done right. It was a sign of faith and complete trust that Lydia felt like she could slack off while Jackson and I were working, instead of having to breath down our necks. But that didn't make it any less unfair.

By the time I finally got the lights up and working and the ladder put away, the sky was starting to get dark. Lydia had been right, I realized grudgingly. The fairy lights did look killer. I dusted off my hands in pride before walking back inside.

"Voilá!" I cheered with a smile as I walked back inside. "Our backyard is now a magical party land." Lydia beamed, skittering outside in her party dress to check my work, while Jackson merely glanced out the door with an approving nod. "Hey Danny," I added, noticing that he'd arrived early as our alcohol supplier. Before he could so much as open his mouth, Lydia was sprinting back inside.

"Yay! Okay, now go, go, go! People will be here soon and you're not ever dressed yet!" She pushed me towards the stairwell. "I laid out a dress and some heels on your bed, and I am not kidding, if you don't step up the makeup to be party worthy I will drag you back up there and do it myself! Go!" I simply laughed, swatting her hands away and taking the steps two at a time up to my room.

It took me a little over half an hour to get ready, between getting dressed and texting Allison to keep her calm before Scott showed up. I figured Lydia wouldn't mind too much, considering it was "my party" and in her words, "The guest of honor always arrives fashionably late." When I was done, I took an extra minute to scrutinize myself in the mirror.

Lydia had picked out a plum purple dress, fairly modest compared to her own. The round neckline barely dipped below my collarbone, and my shoulders were even covered with cap sleeves. The modest front was tempered by a flirty back that dipped down my shoulder blades, and the short skirt that flared from my waist to mid-thigh. While there wasn't much I could do to dress up my hair, I had followed Lydia's demands to step up the makeup. I'd experimented with a matching purple eye shadow, and used black liquid eyeliner to make my eyes look bolder than usual. After I threw on the designated black heels and a few chunky black bracelets, I felt confident I looked as though this was not the first rowdy high school party I was attending. Which in reality, it was.

There were already around fifteen people downstairs when I came down. Lydia squealed like a five-year-old being told she was going to Disneyworld when she saw me, hugging me tightly and dragging me over to the small group of people outside, most of whom I knew. She pushed a drink into my hand and introduced me to a few other people, and we chatted over the music for a while until the doorbell rang. Lydia pushed me towards the door to answer it. I was technically the hostess after all.

After a while the door got very, very busy. It was hardly worth it to close it between visitors, let alone stray away. So instead I snagged a bowl of chips and a Solo cup of Coke, and stationed myself by the door to welcome people when they came in. It seemed a lot less low pressure than actually standing out by the pool and attempting to mingle with my measly social skills. I briefly met with everyone who came, exchanging names and usually receiving a quick welcome line like, "Hey welcome to Beacon! How do you like it here?" I only really chatted with a few people before they strayed inside the join the majority of the party.

However, my sanctuary was ruined when arriving groups started to thin out. Lydia noticed, from wherever she had been stationed outside, and dragged me away from the door to the poolside to dance with her. That was actually immensely fun. We'd conversed and compromised on the party playlist, so I actually knew most of the songs. Bouncing around and singing with Lydia by my side was really all I could ask for. Surprisingly, even when she slinked away to make out with Jackson and left me in a group with Danny and Christine, I continued to enjoy myself.

Suddenly, my back bumped into someone as I stumbled mid-jump. I whirled around to apologize, only to find a familiar mane of dark hair.

"Allison!" I laughed, looking down at her as she recovered from being pushed into Scott's chest. "I'd say I was sorry, but I'm really not." She laughed in embarrassment, letting me hug her. "Ah, I'm so glad you decided to come."

"Yeah, we're having a great time," she nodded, straining her voice a little over the noise. I glanced to her date, who was watching her with steady eyes and an awed smile. I glanced back at Allison, sighing when I realized she wasn't going to speak up. I turned to Scott.

"Hi, we haven't been formally introduced. I'm Sadie Bennet." I smiled at him, sticking out a hand. His eyes finally flicked over to mine, and he smiled as if he had only just realized I was there.

"Oh, hey! Scott McCall."

"So I've heard," I replied sharply, earning me an elbow in the ribs from Allison. I chuckled. "Allison and I were watching you in the scrimmage today. You were absolutely fantastic. Congratulations on first line, you deserve it."

"Thanks! I'm really excited," he exclaimed brightly, and I was instantly reminded of the way Prada's ears perked up when someone spoke to her. "And thanks for letting us come. It's a really great party." I shrugged.

"Thank you and you're welcome," I replied. "I should probably say something about Lydia now, but she did like nothing, so I'm gonna take all the credit." The couple laughed politely and I watched as they tried to secretly glance at each other again. "Alright, alright! Sorry for interrupting. She's all yours." I winked, pushing Allison back into Scott's chest and turning my back. Unfortunately, I almost immediately ran into someone else's chest. "Oh sorry," I started before looking up. "Oh, hey Dylan," I finished flatly.

"Hey, hey Sadie sweetie!" he cheered in a too-loud voice that indicated he was pretty far-gone already.

"Glad to see you're enjoying yourself," I said dryly, trying to brush past him. Unfortunately, he turned with me, wrapping an arm around my waist.

"Aw no, come on. Where ya goin'?"

"It's my party," I tried to explain. "It's my job to flit around and make sure everyone's having a nice time."

"Hm, well I could be having a better time if you stayed and danced with me," he attempted to whisper, his hot, alcohol breath washing over my face.

"I'm really not interested, Peters," I hissed, jerking my shoulders in an attempt to free myself.

"Uh uh! Come on, see? That's almost dancing."

"Dylan, let go of me!" I tried to push him away, but instead he grabbed my forearm, yanking me closer.

"Hey!" a new voice barked. Dylan retracted his arm immediately, stumbling back as Jackson appeared at my shoulder. "Try to keep it in your pants, would you Peters?"

"Psh, whatever," he scoffed, attempting to chug the rest of his empty cup. Jackson kept an eye on him as he turned his head to me slightly.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, thanks," I muttered, massaging my arm and glaring daggers at probably my least favorite person on the planet. Jackson nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Okay. Why don't you head inside? I got him." Before I could agree or properly thank him, he was already walking away. "Come on, Peters. I need a drink." Jackson grabbed him by the arm, perhaps a little more roughly than normal, and dragged him away towards the bar table.

I let out a deep breath and pushed my way through the masses of dancing teenagers making my way towards the house. I popped into the kitchen to grab myself another Coke, and nearly ran into someone for the third time that night. I groaned, turning to apologize when I met a pair of wide brown eyes.

"Stiles! Hey, you made it!" Suddenly I was smiling, my eyes scanning over his tan blazer, dark red tie and button up shirt.

"Sadie! Hi, uh, yeah. Here I am." He grinned nervously, eyes darting around the kitchen and glancing into the hallway. I bit my lip, trying to convince myself he wasn't looking for an escape route.

"You clean up nice," I offered, crossing my arms securely over my chest and leaning into my left hip. That got his attention. His eyes snapped to mine in a look of wild surprise, gaping for a second before he composed himself to reply.

"Wha-? Reall-? Uh, thanks. I mean you look… You know, you look great too." I distinctly heard his voice waver on the word "great," not sure if it was the correct word to use. It almost sounded as if his voice were about to break, the timing suspiciously close to the moment his eyes slid to the end of my skirt. I smiled softly.

"Thanks for coming," I said, surprising even myself with the earnestness of my tone. Stiles's fidgeting stilled for a moment.

"Thanks for inviting me," he replied. "Looks like a great party." I sighed, leaning against the counter.

"Eh, it's okay. I've kind of had my fill of all the dancing and hostess-ing." He shrugged.

"Well you know what they say. It's your party so, you can do what you want to." I tilted my head to the side in agreement, unable to think of a proper reply. "That's not actually the line," he continued rapidly, "but you know, I'd prefer if you didn't cry." I giggled tiredly.

"Ha ha, well. I'll try my best." We sank into silence for a few seconds, and I could feel Stiles watching me as I stared at my shoes.

"You look like you need a drink," he offered. I sighed again, tilting my head back and standing upright in an attempt to shake off my morose mood.

"Ugh, probably. But I'm avoiding the population of the bar table."

"Hey, well that's something I can do!" he said brightly, clapping his hands once. "You stay in here and do your avoiding thing, and I'll go get us drinks!" He grinned and pointed at me with double fingers before speeding out of the kitchen, leaving me laughing against the counter. I sighed once he was gone, suddenly panicking that the phrase "I'll get us drinks" might have been used as a common way to ditch me. Deciding I needed to do something with myself, I went searching through the cupboards, finally pulling out a box of chocolate chip cookies with M&Ms. Socialized out, I ripped the box open.

When Stiles returned a few minutes later, he found me slouched on a stool at the counter, one cookie stuffed in my mouth with the next in my hand. He raised his eyebrows.

"Uh, hey. So I didn't really know what to get you…"

"To be honest," I interrupted through a mouth full of crumbs, "at this point I really don't care." I accepted the cup from him, screwing up my face as I took a long sip. The chocolate from the cookie made it taste considerably better than I'm sure it would have had I not been eating. I pushed the box toward him. "Cookie?"

"Is that a question?" he asked, before snatching one from the box. "So, do you uh…need to talk about why you're so reluctant to get back to the party?" I shrugged, downing another gulp of my drink.

"That depends." I paused as the alcohol burned my throat. "Do I get to know why you're so interested in werewolves?" Stiles froze again, and I watched him over the top of my cup as he glanced back at the hallway before holding my gaze.

"Sure," he replied casually. "You first." I groaned resting my head in my hand.

After a few seconds I launched into an abridged tale of my frustrations. Stiles made me feel a little better by complimenting my job on the fairy lights, and completely bashing Dylan Peters. He offered to beat the shit out of him at lacrosse practice, before remembering that Dylan was first line while Stiles hardly played, so it was highly unlikely he'd ever get the chance anyway.

In return, Stiles confessed that he was reading up on werewolves purely for pleasure. He mentioned he was part of a gaming community and wanted a little background knowledge to one up his opponents, on top of the fact that he just found the subject intriguing. Needless to say, I wasn't buying it. I didn't doubt that Stiles spent his spare time hunting vampires and werewolves on the internet under some ridiculously convoluted username; he definitely seemed the type. But I could tell from the way his knee bounced the whole time that it wasn't the whole truth. He was nervous, and eventually, I was going to find out why.

After a long and relaxing conversation with Stiles, he eventually convinced me to return to the party. Not necessarily to mingle, but at least to meet a few of his friends. It was nice, talking to some new people who were not nearly as high maintenance as the crowd I usually hung out with. I suspected I would continue to be friendly with Rebecca, one of the only other girls Stiles seemed to know. We had a few classes together, and she seemed to be a very balanced ball of intelligence and sass. Definitely someone I could get along with.

I was chatting to her about the ridiculous syllabus for our history class when I felt Stiles go rigid next to me.

"Yo, Scott, you good?" he asked, reaching out a hand. I glanced over to see Scott stumbling toward us, his face sweaty and his eyes in an unfocused daze—and not the good kind I'd seen him experience with Allison. He was breathing heavily, a hand grasping at his chest as he winced. Barely a second later, Allison sped past us calling after him. I promptly put my cup down on the table behind me, ducking out of the conversation and rushing after them.

"Scott?" I called, a thousand panicked ideas already running through my head as to why he may have gotten sick at the party. I caught up to Allison, jumping down the steps as Scott scrambled into his car and slammed the door behind him. "Scott, are you-?" But he ignored us, slamming on the gas and peeling out of the driveway.

Allison and I watched in wordless confusion as Scott's taillights disappeared down the street. After a moment, she let out a choked sigh. I immediately turned my attention to her.

"Are you alright? What happened?"

"I-I don't know," she said quickly, and I could see she was about to get worked up. "One second we were dancing and I thought he was gonna kiss me and—and the next he was running away!" She seemed caught between confusion, rage and crying, holding a hand to her head and attempting to keep her breathing even. My shoulders sagged and I wrapped her in a hug.

"Sh, okay. It's okay. Come on, I'll drive you home."

"Allison," an unfamiliar voice called. My friend and I quickly turned around to see someone I definitely didn't know.

He was tall, with dark, tanned skin and black, spikey hair. He had a thick set of eyebrows with two, unnervingly sharp eyes set underneath. He was dressed casually in jeans and a white T-shirt with a leather jacket, but paired with his extremely impressive features he didn't seem underdressed. Maybe it was just the confident way he held himself, but he certainly looked over. There was no way he was a high school student.

"I'm a friend of Scott's," he continued, stepping closer as Allison glanced over her shoulder at the road. "My name's Derek."

"Um, hi," she muttered, and I wrapped my arm tighter around her shoulders.

"I just noticed that Scott had to rush out on you," Derek offered, sticking his hands in his pockets. "He gets like that sometimes, kind of sickly. I thought I'd offer you a ride home for him." He pulled one hand out of his pocket and jerked his thumb over his shoulder at a shiny black Camaro I hadn't noticed before. I felt Allison fidget under my arm and pulled her closer.

"Actually I think we've got it under control, thanks." Derek's eyes flew to me, holding my eye contact for a few seconds before scanning my body. It wasn't the same way Dylan had looked at me, or even Stiles. Derek looked more like he was appraising me, sizing up a potential threat.

"You're friends with Scott?" Allison asked quietly. He turned back to her, his gaze instantly softening.

"Yeah," he repeated, smiling. "You know, about this tall, brown hair, puppy dog eyes." My lips twitched at a description so similar to the own I had thought of, but I refused to smile. "Really good lacrosse."

"I suppose you taught him everything he knows," I shot, a little snippily. Derek's gaze returned to me, hardening.

"I'm the reason he is as good as he is," he replied evenly. I glared a bit.

"Well, sorry. Just because you know who Scott is doesn't prove you're friends with him. Come on, Allison." I started to tug her towards the house so I could grab my keys, but Derek called us back.

"He gave you a pen the first time you spoke to him," he offered, and Allison's head snapped back to stare at him. Derek's hands were back in his pockets, and he leaned back casually, looking down his nose at us. "He talks about you all the time. It's kind of cute." I felt Allison relax under my grip, much to my frustration. "Come on," he pleaded again. "The least I can do is make sure you get home safe, since Scott couldn't." We stood in the driveway for a few seconds, all standing still until Allison sagged.

"Yeah, okay," she replied.

"What?! Allison, no!"

"No, really, it's okay," she assured me, turning back to me. "He's friends with Scott, and you really shouldn't miss any more of your own welcome party." I glared at Derek over her shoulder. "Sadie, come on, I'll be fine," she pleaded in a whisper. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath before I nodded.

"But you text me when you get home." She nodded, hugging me before she stepped back. I grabbed her arm, whispering harshly. "On second thought, you know, send me like a picture of you in your bedroom when you get home. Photo proof. Or you can keep me on the phone for the whole ride, whatever." Allison smiled, rolling her eyes. She hugged me tightly once more.

"Don't worry, Sadie, I'll be fine. I'll text you when I get home." She turned her back and walked over to Derek's car. The moment her eyes left mine, I looked up to see Derek watching me. He was intimidating, I'd give him that, but I held his gaze for all I was worth, standing up straight and glaring at him. He narrowed his eyes, but his lips twitched upward, apparently amused that I was being so defiant.

"I'll get her home safe," he said suddenly, and I raised my eyebrows in surprise.

"You'd better," I growled. He looked at me for a moment longer before nodding once. Then he got in the car, and I watched uneasily as he and Allison drove away, admittedly at a much safer speed than Scott had. I shook my head, turning to walk back inside.

"Sadie!" My head shot up to see Stiles sprinting down the steps, keys in one hand and tan blazer in the other. "Sadie, where did Scott go? Did he look okay? Where's Allison?"

"Woah, Stiles, okay slow down," I said, holding up my hands. "Scott bolted in his car. Honestly? He didn't look too good, but your friend Derek said that was normal." Stiles froze, launching into new level of panic.

"D-Derek? What?! Derek Hale?"

"Uh—I don't know," I said quickly, seriously freaked out by the boy's reaction. "Tall, attractive older guy with black hair and a leather jacket?" Stiles cursed under his breath.

"Why the hell was Derek here?" he demanded.

"I don't know!" I repeated shrilly. "He apologized for Scott about being sick and then offered to take Allison home!"

"Wh-? Serio-? And you just let him?" Stiles asked.

"I told her not to go with him!" I screamed back. "Stiles, who the hell is he?"

"No! No one. Okay…Shit," he breathed, running his hands over his hair. "Okay, one problem at a time. I gotta go." Without another word of explanation, Stiles ran into the street, sprinting across the road and jumping into the beat up, blue Jeep that had practically patrolled my street over the summer.

"Stiles!" I yelled after him, but instead he just sped off the same direction that Scott had. I felt my eyes prickle with tears of frustration. I ran a hand through my hair in distress, turning on my heel and trudging back into the house, my happy, party mood completely evaporated.

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys! So, first author's note. Chapter 3, I figured it was about time I introduced myself. I'm Brittney, and I just want to thank you guys so much for reading. Finally got some Stiles in this chapter! I hope you're all enjoying it. I know it can be super annoying to ask foe reviews, but if you guys ever find something about a chapter you like, a certain line that made you laugh or gave you a tingly feeling inside, please PLEASE don't be afraid to leave a review or a PM. I thrive off that stuff, and I want to say thank you to those of you who've reviewed the last two chapters. Reversely, also feel free to let me know if there's something you don't like!**

**This chapter was unusually long. I was struggling to fit everything in, but it should go back to normal length after this. Thanks for reading and let me know what you think!**

**-Brittney**


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, I didn't wake up until noon. I was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. After Scott, Allison and Stiles had made a run for it, I'd slunk into the house. Unsurprisingly, Lydia and Jackson were nowhere in sight. Even at the risk there might be a minor accident, I secluded myself from the rest of the party, standing in the kitchen and staring at my phone until Allison texted me. Thankfully, it hadn't taken too long. Derek had brought her straight home, just as he promised. I spent the rest of the night by the door, thanking guests for coming as they left and obsessively texting Allison about exactly what happened on her date with Scott. I tried to calm her down, but the truth was I was pretty freaked myself.

After everyone had left, I released Prada from her room and followed her as she ran into the decimated backyard. The music was still playing, one of the card tables was lying on its side, and red and blue disposable cups covered the ground, perched on the edges of the house, crushed on the grass, and both floating and sinking in the pool. I groaned.

"Well, Prada, guess it's just you and me." This time the dog seemed to take pity on me. She trotted over to me, licking my ankle and sitting by my side. I gave her a begrudging smile, scratching behind her ear before grabbing a garbage bag and setting to work.

I left the music on while I collected the garbage. I realized that realistically, I should have changed first, but I was afraid that if I went to my room now I might never come out. Instead, I settled for kicking off my shoes, padding around the yard barefoot as I picked up cups and flipped over bowls in my nice dress. I had to retrieve the pool skimmer from the shed to fish cups out of the pool as well, sometimes kneeling on the side and sticking my entire arm in the water because a cup had sunken too deep. Eventually though, after hours of work, I managed to clear the yard of all evidence of the party. Two or three bags full of empty cups, plates and bottles sat on the curb, ready to be picked up and taken away before our mothers could arrive home. I wiped down all the counters, and one or two spills that had occurred on the floor before throwing in the towel. I glanced at the two tables outside, knowing I should probably just take them downstairs myself, but decided I was just too damn tired. I wasn't going to do all the cleaning for a party I practically set up for by myself because Lydia and Jackson were too busy having fun in bed. The tables could wait until tomorrow.

I finally dragged myself up to the sanctuary of my room, changing out of my dress and into an oversized T-shirt and sweatpants. I curled up on my side under the covers, completely ready to pass out.

But I didn't. Instead, my mind decided it would be a good time to replay the night's events—Scott's sweaty face and dizzy eyes, Dylan's arm around my waist, Allison's broken voice as she tried to tell me what had happened to her date, Stiles's face when I told him Allison had left with their friend Derek.

Obviously, Derek wasn't their friend. Stiles had seemed far too shocked and alarmed at the information that he was present. It wasn't the pleasant surprise of hearing about an old friend after a long time, but the panic of finding out someone you'd been avoiding had shown up and was looking for you. So who was Derek Hale?

After about half an hour I gave up on sleep, carrying my laptop back to my bed, determined to find out. I searched various combinations of his name and Beacon Hills, before I found something that peaked my interest.

Apparently, six years previously there had been a house fire in the woods on the side of town. The home belonged to the Hale family, and several people had died in the blaze, only a few surviving. There weren't any specific details about Derek, as I suspected he'd still been a minor at the time, but the facts I had discovered were brutal. There were a few mentions of a man hospitalized with gruesome full-body burns, and a child who'd apparently died from smoke inhalation before even reaching the hospital. The rest of the family died on the property. There were a few articles with details about the case, which seemed to have been closed for quite some time. While officially it had been reported as an accident, a few reports discussed the possibility of arson, and even though they provided no details, reporters assured there was a compelling case. But no one had ever faced charges, or been reported a suspect.

On a whim, I searched for Derek on Facebook. There were quite a few Derek Hales in California, but none matching the description of the guy in the driveway. I hadn't expected to find him. After a tragedy like that in such a small town, it didn't surprise me that Derek wanted to keep to himself. But that begged the question, why did he decide to show up at a party full of rowdy teenagers? Why pretend to be Scott's friend just to drive Allison home? I suddenly understood why Stiles had seemed so concerned. Not only were Derek's actions questionable, but I'm sure that as one of the sole survivors of the house fire there were plenty of rumors about him around town, either about his part in the fire or his mental state afterwards. I vowed to keep a close eye on Allison, and keep the other one peeled for Derek Hale, just before I slipped into unconsciousness with my computer still in my lap.

So when I woke up at noon the next day? It's safe to say I was exhausted and extremely irritable.

I checked my phone to find a message from my mother, letting me know that she and Miss Eleanor were going shopping and would probably be home around dinnertime. I took my time getting washed up, wandering downstairs to have a bowl of cereal while still in my pajamas. After that, I went back upstairs, knocking firmly on the door to Lydia's room.

"Enter at your own risk!" she called before dissolving into giggles. I cracked the door open an inch, not daring to look inside.

"That mean Jackson's still here?"

"Hey, Sadie," he replied in answer to my question.

"It's safe to come in," Lydia's high voice assured me. Though I severely doubted her words, I opened the door anyway. Lydia and Jackson were both still in bed, covers pulled up over their chests so I didn't have to suffer through traumatic nightmares. I grimaced anyway.

"Ugh, guys, really? It's like one o'clock." They laughed at my discomfort, Lydia shrugging apologetically. "So I guess you guys had a nice time?"

"Yeah," Lydia agreed, looking over at her boyfriend with a sly smile. "I'd say we had fun. What about you?" I shrugged, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning on the doorframe.

"Uh, yeah," I lied. "It was a good party."

"Hey," Jackson spoke up, eying me with something that looked dangerously close to concern. "You okay?" I assumed he was referring to the previous night before Lydia spoke up.

"Yeah, you don't look too good." I sighed, wiping my hands down my face.

"Uh, yeah, I'm fine. Just tired. Look, I uh, cleaned up all the cups and bottles last night so everything's pretty much done. Would you two mind grabbing the tables and the fairy lights? Moms are gonna be home for dinner."

"Aw, sweetie!" Lydia crooned, tilting her head to the side and looking at me with sympathy. "Of course." Surprisingly, Jackson nodded in agreement.

"Okay, thanks," I said. "I'm gonna get dressed and start putting everything back where it belongs." I backed out of the room, but Jackson called out just before the door was shut.

"Hey, Sadie! Any chance of us getting breakfast in bed?" I paused, pursing my lips in an annoyed smile he couldn't see.

"Sure!" I called tersely. "And do you want sugar or milk with the hot tea I'm gonna pour on your balls?" Lydia cackled and I heard Jackson groan.

"Yeah, okay, point taken."

"We'll be down in a little while," Lydia's giggling voice assured me. I shook my head and shut the door behind me.

Annoying as they might have been, the couple was good on their word. They joined me in the kitchen refreshed and fully dressed. They took down the fairy lights in nearly a third of the time it took for me to put them up, and a few minutes later the tables had disappeared as well. After that, Jackson went home, and Lydia helped me return all the papers and knick-knacks to their rightful places.

Party aside, we had a pretty quiet weekend. Lydia and I had a traditional pajama-party-sleepover on Saturday night, curling up with popcorn and a few of my favorite movies so she could make up for ditching me the night before. Sunday I kept mostly to my room, completing the homework I hadn't been able to finish at the library and catching up on the sleep I'd lost.

By the time Monday morning rolled around, I was recuperated and determined, stalking into school with only one goal in my mind. I grabbed my books from my locker and then passed my English classroom to walk towards Allison's locker. I passed that too, making a beeline for Scott and Stiles, who were standing by Scott's locker and conversing in low voices. Scott spotted me first, and tapped Stiles on the shoulder before nodding my way.

"H-Hey, Sadie!" Stiles greeted in a shaky voice as I approached. I saw his eyes scan my sweater dress and leggings, but kept a soft smile on my face in reply. I turned to his friend.

"Hey, Scott," I greeted in a quiet voice. "How are you feeling?"

"Uh, a lot better, thanks," he replied gratefully. "I'm sorry I ran out on your party." I waved a hand, brushing his apology out of the air.

"Don't worry about missing it, as long as you're okay." I squinted at him, hugging my books to my chest. "You are okay, right?"

"I'm perfectly fine," he assured me with a smile. I grinned.

"Good." I bobbed my head in a nod. Then I dropped the act and punched him in the shoulder.

"Woah!" Stiles yelled, jumping back into the lockers as Scott grabbed his shoulder and groaned in pain.

"What was that for?!" he winced. I glared.

"That was for scaring the shit out of Allison and I and then leaving her stranded at my house without an explanation!" I rounded on Stiles, who immediately pressed himself against the lockers, hands up in surrender and eyes wide. I brandished a finger in his face threateningly. "And the only reason you're not getting the wind knocked out of you is because Allison told me you stopped by her house to check up on her."

"You talked to Allison?" Scott asked, and I could hear the sadness in his tone even as he tried to roll the pain out of his shoulder. Despite my best efforts, hearing the hurt in his voice calmed me down a bit.

"Of course I talked to Allison." I shook myself off, wrapping my arms around my books again.

"And?" he inquired, hope saturating his dark puppy dog eyes.

"And what?" I shot back. "She's hurt and confused, what did you expect? What did you think was gonna happen when you literally sped away from your date?"

"I _wasn't_ thinking," he replied miserably, resting his face against his locker. I winced as I watched the compelling, if pathetic, display of emotion. I shook my head.

"Okay," I started, causing both boys to look at me. "I'm not gonna play middle man, but Allison is my friend and I want to see her happy." Scott nodded vigorously, wordlessly assuring me that he wanted Allison to be happy too. "I don't know what's really going on with you two," I gestured between the two boys in front of me, "but you better have one _hell_ of a good excuse for your weird behavior if you try to talk to Allison."

Both boys stared at me with wide, fearful eyes, apparently shocked to find that I was calling them out on their strange actions. I rolled my eyes, turning around and marching to class without another word.

When we sat down for English, I held my head high and kept my shoulders back, avoiding eye contact with both Scott and Stiles. To Scott's frustration, Allison followed my lead, completely ignoring both of them and brushing them off at the end of class. We stalked off together, leaving the two very frustrated boys behind.

We continued to play the game for the entire day. Scott's efforts I could understand. He didn't seem to want another minute go by where Allison was upset with him, attempting to catch her eye every chance he could. I was slightly more confused about Stiles's efforts, though. Most likely, he was just trying on Scott's behalf, hoping that since Allison wasn't directly upset with him, he might be able to put in a good word for his friend. He was probably trying to get my attention to ask why I was ignoring him in the first place. But I continued to brush him off for the sake of solidarity with Allison.

After our last class, I offered Allison a ride home with Lydia and I, but she shook her head.

"No, that's okay. My dad's coming to pick me up. Besides, I have to go talk to Scott."

"You sure about that?" I prodded, leaning on the wall next to her. "I kind of enjoyed watching him steep in his misery and guilt. You might want to let that sit for a bit."

"You're terrible," she laughed, shaking her head. I smiled smugly, shrugging it off. Allison sighed, closing her locker and turning to me. "Do you think I should give him a second chance?" I sighed.

"I don't know, Allison. It's not really my-," I started, but she cut me off.

"But you're my friend, and I trust your opinion." I bit my lip.

"I think," I spoke slowly, choosing my words carefully, "that Scott really likes you. I think he's a _weirdo_, and he's probably hiding some things, and I have no idea what his deal was at the party, but… I do believe that he would never intentionally do something that might hurt you." Allison nodded her head, considering my thoughts. Finally, she looked up at me.

"I think I should let him try again."

"Okay," I said, nodding. "Then let him try again." Allison smiled.

"Thanks, Sadie." She hugged me before backing up. "I'll see you tomorrow." I waved her off, straying off to Lydia's locker so that she could drive us home.

Internally, I was grateful for the normal school day. After my busy and confusing Friday night, I was ready for at least three weeks of boring, repetitive school, where the worst of my problems would be dealing with my two best friends and their relationships. As I probably should have guessed, the peace didn't last.

At around five o'clock, Lydia burst into my bedroom, hair slightly frazzled and face pink. Her eyes were wide and she held her phone in her hand. I dropped my pen onto my chemistry homework immediately getting up from my desk and walking over to her.

"Lydia? Lydia, what's wrong?"

"It's Jackson," she answered, sounding angrier than anything else. I was a bit taken aback, expecting her voice to come out slightly broken. "He's in the hospital."

"What?!" I asked, my eyebrows shooting up. "What the hell happened?"

"Scott McCall happened," she spat. "Apparently he practically attacked him at practice and they had to bring Jackson to the hospital."

"W-Well is he okay? Do they know what's wrong?" Lydia shook her head.

"No, they're doing some tests now." I nodded, resting a hand on her shoulder.

"Do you want to go down?" She looked up at me for a moment before nodding fervently. "Okay, let me grab my shoes. Why don't you brush your hair and I'll meet you downstairs? I'm sure he's fine." Lydia continued nodded, rushing out of the room. I shook my head, and despite the circumstances, there was only one thought ringing through my head.

_What the hell was going on with Scott McCall?_

Lydia's frantic state meant we rushed out of the house within five minutes. I only really had time for put on shoes and grab my jacket and phone before she was dragging me to the car. We remained completely silent, but the drive seemed to calm her down considerably. By the time we reached the hospital, she was no longer nervous, just severely irritated. She snapped at me when I asked if she was alright, declaring that she was perfectly fine and we were only staying to find out what was wrong with Jackson and admonish him for not calling her to let her know what happened. Apparently she was pretty upset that she had to find out from his mother when she answered his cell phone.

Resigned, I sat back in my chair and pulled up another mindless game on my phone. I was rapidly becoming annoyed as well. I'd rushed out of the house just for Lydia to take out her frustration on me, we were waiting at the hospital to hear news about what was probably a minor injury, which was inflicted by Scott McCall who seemed to want to ruin the lives of everyone I knew, and I hadn't even had time to grab my chemistry homework. What a fantastic night.

We waited what felt like hours in silence until Jackson's parents joined us. Mr. and Mrs. Whittlemore were good people, and I often found it hard to believe that they'd raised Jackson. They both adored Lydia, and smiled tiredly when they saw us waiting. Apparently Scott had rammed into Jackson during practice, leaving him writhing on the ground with a separated shoulder. I stayed in the waiting room and chatted with Mr. and Mrs. Whittlemore while Lydia went into his room to wish him well for the both of us, and probably punch him in his bad shoulder while she was at it.

She complained the whole way home, ranting about Jackson's thoughtlessness and then quickly channeling her fury to Scott and what a freakazoid he was, thinking he could just come out of nowhere with all that talent and just take over the team. I didn't say a word, only able to escape from her tirade by locking myself in my room to finish my homework and go to bed.

I was up late again, which meant come Tuesday morning, I was nearly as irritated as Lydia had been last night. She'd managed to compose herself, plastering on a large smile in preparation for the flood of attention and questions she'd probably receive about Jackson's health. I strode behind her, in a simple blue dress with lace tights, essentially just a ball of grumpiness.

I was soothed a little by talking to Allison before English. I told her about Jackson's injury, and she was politely worried, telling me to wish him well even though I had no plans of returning to the hospital until his release. Then she let me rant about how annoyed I was with Lydia.

Despite the fact Allison had forgiven Scott and decided to give him a second chance, I was still not on speaking terms with him or Stiles. Now I had to avoid them for Lydia, and Jackson's sake I supposed. Well, I _had_ to be avoiding Scott. I wasn't totally sure of why I was giving Stiles the cold shoulder, but at the moment it felt right to lump them together. He hadn't given up on trying to catch my attention, but it was relatively easy to make it through the school day avoiding him.

Unfortunately, I couldn't run forever. Tuesdays meant working at the library, and I was terribly alone at the front desk when Stiles cautiously ambled in. I stood up, trying to make myself look busy by reorganizing the piles of books that needed to be put back, but knowing full well I couldn't actually leave. He cleared his throat.

"Uh, hey Sadie." I didn't look at him, but reluctantly returned to my chair, locking my eyes on the computer screen.

"Can I help you?" I asked in a cold, professional voice.

"Uh, yeah. I'm just here to return those books I checked out last week." I turned to the books when he placed them on the counter, pulling them towards me and looking back at the computer. I wordlessly scanned the cards as he fidgeted in front of me. "Okay," he broke. "Fine, so that's not the only reason I'm here." Despite the sincere tone of his voice, I ignored him. He sighed. "How's Jackson?"

"Hospitalized," I replied shortly. I could practically feel Stiles rolling his yes.

"They know what wrong yet?" I paused, typing one of the book titles into the computer.

"He's got a separated left shoulder." Stiles winced.

"Ouch. That's…well…not good…" I paused, pressing my lips into a tight line. Finally, I gave in, looking up at him. His face was lined with what looked like genuine concern, sable eyes set steadily on mine.

"Don't worry about Jackson," I said, looking around and dropping my head. "He's an asshole." Stiles let out a short, quiet laugh.

"Woah now," he said, leaning forward on the counter above me. "I thought you were supposed to be his friend." I shrugged, allowing a small smile to grace my lips.

"Doesn't mean I can't objectively notice his douchiness." He laughed again, chuckling himself into silence until he spoke a few seconds later.

"How are you?" I looked up, and this time I was the one wearing a pleasantly surprised face. He grinned sheepishly. "I'm sorry for snapping at you and ditching the party," he apologized, running a long-fingered hand over his hair. "I should have known you were smart enough to tell Allison not to walk off with some stranger and I promise I was having a really great time." It was a wordy sentence, one I could Stiles had probably rehearsed, but an apology just the same. My lips twitch up of their own accord, and suddenly I was grinning as well.

"Thanks. I was having a nice time too."

"Good," he replied heartily. "So does that mean you're gonna stop pretending I don't exist now?" I winced.

"I'm sorry," I started, but Stiles was already shaking his head.

"No, no. It's okay. I kinda deserved it, and with Jackson in the hospital… I get that Scott and I are kind of a package deal." My mouth hung open slightly. It didn't surprise me that he'd waved off my apology. Stiles seemed like the bright kind of person who didn't really like to hold grudges. What surprised me was how accurately he had described my thoughts. Before I could voice this, he was shrugging, a lopsided grin on his face. "Plus, I'm kinda used to it." I frowned.

"You shouldn't be." The answer was immediate, more of an instinctive reaction than a consolation. Stiles looked up at me from beneath his ridiculously long lashes, coffee colored eyes washing over me. I held his gaze for a few seconds of complete silence, eyebrows raised in earnest. "Thanks for listening to me rant at the party," I added, ducking my head and tucking my hair behind my ear. "I'm sorry for brushing you off, and I promise I will see and acknowledge you at school tomorrow." He nodded with a satisfied smile.

"You'd better!" He stood back up to his full height, drumming his hands on the counter. "Okay then, I guess I'll see you tomorrow, Bennet." I threw my hand up in mock salute.

"Later, Stilinski." I watched as his grey clad back made its way out the door. I sighed, and actually felt like a weight had been taken off my chest. I'd nearly forgotten how tiring holding grudges could be. I wasn't quite sure if I was going to talk to Scott, but as Stiles had mentioned, it was hard to have one without the other. I figured I would deal with it when it became a problem, but there wouldn't be any harm in saying hello.

I returned to my homework when Stiles had left, and was left pretty much undisturbed. Mrs. Sasso had relieved me for a few minutes so that I could reshelf all of the books. I returned with a slight smile, having saved Stiles's werewolf books for last. Then she ran off to the children's section to oversee some reading session, and I was left to my work once more.

I was settling in to _The Stranger_, one of my books for English, when a soft cough alerted me to the presence of someone waiting to be helped. I quickly closed my book, putting on the most professional and apologetic smile I could muster before looking up. My apology died in my throat and the smile slid right off my face. I could feel my jaw drop open, and lacked the focus and physical restraint to keep it shut.

"Hi," Derek Hale greeted me shortly in his slightly familiar, deep voice. He stared down at me from his intimidating height, which seemed all the worse due to the fact that I was sitting. He was wearing the same outfit he'd appeared in on Friday, straining white T-shirt under a black leather jacket. The only difference was that he seemed to be sporting a little more stubble. I was unable to respond, my mind racing with hundreds of different questions. Why was he here? Why was Derek Hale, apparent tortured soul and town recluse, suddenly venturing out to high school parties or the public library? "I'd like to check these books out," he said, as if in answer to my unasked question. I closed my mouth quickly, blinking rapidly in an attempt to wake myself up from my self induced trace.

"Uh, yeah… Yeah sure." I reached up, grabbing the stack of books from the counter and pulling them towards me. I reached for the scanner, picking up the first book before I froze once more. My left hand was grazing the leathery surface of an extremely old, red book. The faded title glinted up at me under the light. _The Study of Lycanthropy._ My head snapped back up to the strange man in front of me, eyes wide. Derek raised his eyebrows, almost challengingly.

"Is there a problem?" I held his gaze for a moment, staring into the secretive green eyes. Finally, I formed a proper response.

"Uh, yeah, actually. I'm gonna need your library card."

"I don't have one," he replied. I shrugged, lifting my shoulders nearly all the way up to my ears.

"Well then, I guess that means no research for you." I expected him to glare, but instead I received quite the opposite. His eyes seemed to twinkle slightly, thin lips twitching up into a smile that told me he found it amusing that I had the guts to defy him.

"Isn't it policy to offer me a card?" I narrowed my eyes a bit before snapping to the computer, double clicking on the correct program.

"I'm going to need a form of identification." Derek reached into his jacket, pulling out his wallet and sliding over his drivers' license. Casually as possible, I scanned the information for anything strange. Unfortunately, everything seemed to be in order. California license, name, ID number, birthdate and Beacon Hills home address. The only thing even slightly abnormal was his picture, in which he was glaring so intensely his eyes seemed completely shut. I pointed to an electric touch pad on the counter. "Signature there."

"Seems a bit much for a library card," he offered conversationally, using a light tone of voice that still managed to sound strained. I assumed small talk was not something he forced himself to do often.

"Well books can be some of the best weapons," I replied, keeping my eyes on the computer screen as I filled in his information. "Need to know who's got their hands on what." He stared me down, obviously not missing the hidden threat. I briskly stood up, walking to another side of the desk. "If you could just stand on the white line, please." Derek followed my instructions, but his eyes never left me as he stalked around the counter. "I just have to take your picture for the card. Look here, please." I tapped the webcam lightly, maneuvering around the computer to take the picture. The flash went off, and a few seconds later Derek's picture loaded on the screen. At least, it was supposed to be his picture. Instead, it was a vague outline of his face, colors and features blocked by an extreme lens flare I hadn't encountered before. I glanced over to him, finding him watching me intently. "Um…I'll just take a couple more," I muttered, turning back to the computer.

I ended up having to take about five different pictures of Derek. Almost every time his face was horribly obscured by lens flare, as if the flash was going off directly into a mirror. Finally, I managed to snap a shot mid-blink. It wasn't a good picture at all, and like his drivers' license his eyes were almost completely closed. However, I had a feeling Derek wouldn't be using the card very often, and therefore wouldn't mind all that much. Frustrated, I printed the card, waiting next to the machine and impatiently tapping my foot. When it clattered into the bin, I immediately snatched it up, hardly waiting for the ink to dry or the plastic to cool down. I scanned the bar code before handing both the library card and license to Derek. He reviewed it with an amused expression before wordlessly tucking both cards back into his wallet. I scanned each of the books he had piled in front of me, not nearly as surprised as I should have been to find that they were the same four I had acquired for Stiles.

"Thank you for getting Allison home safe," I found myself saying before I could stop myself. However, Derek didn't seem the slightest bit taken aback by my gratitude.

"I promised I would." I tilted my head a bit, closing the last book.

"Still. She definitely wasn't your responsibility." Derek caught my eye again, and we seemed to be locked in a staring contest as we both contemplated my words. Obviously it wasn't Derek's responsibility per say to drive Allison home. But he literally had no reason to be concerned. I knew that he wasn't actually friends with Scott or Stiles, so his interest in Allison was completely unexplained. Now, he knew I knew that. When I was sure the message was received, I broke eye contact, pushing the stack towards him. "Well, there you go. Enjoy."

"Thanks," he replied with a dangerous, charming smile. He tucked the books under his arm and headed for the door. "I'm sure I'll see you around, Sadie."

My blood suddenly ran cold. I knew for a fact that Allison hadn't brought up my name or me in the very brief time she'd spent in the car with Derek. So why on Earth did Derek Hale know or care who I was?

As soon as the door closed behind him, I collapsed into my chair, reaching under the desk and fiddling with my purse. I pulled out my phone, glancing around before opening a text to Allison.

_"Hey, have you seen that Derek guy around lately?"_

I tucked the phone under my thigh so I would know when it went off, but found myself unable to refocus my attention on my English book. Instead, I just looked around, bouncing my leg nervously until Allison responded.

_"Uh, no I haven't. Why?"_

I sighed. I knew it was unlikely she knew anything about Derek, besides the fact that he had driven her home. I hadn't told her about Stiles's response to finding out he'd shown up to the party, or about the articles on the house fire, simply because I didn't want to freak her out. But now that he'd shown up again out of the blue? Showed up to the library during my shift, knowing my name and exactly what books my friend had just returned? It was a completely different story. I had a bad feeling Derek Hale wasn't just showing interest in us out of the goodness of his heart.

I shook my head, quickly replying.

_"Um, because in case you hadn't noticed he was kind of gorgeous? You should most definitely keep your eye out for that."_

I didn't want Allison to worry too much when I wasn't a hundred percent sure I was right to be worried. I was sure there was something strange going on, but until I figured out _what _I decided it was best Allison didn't know. But that didn't mean she couldn't be vigilant.

I texted back and forth with Allison through the rest of my shift, between actual work and different sets of math problems. Just before I left, I flipped to a blank page in one of my notebooks and, consistently glancing behind me, looked up Derek's account.

I wasn't quite sure why, but there was something else about his visit to the library had continued to nag me. It was weird enough that Stiles had avoided my questions as to why he was checking out those books, but I couldn't imagine why Derek was so interested. Was he just trying to prove a point to me about surveillance, to let me know he knew exactly what was going on in my life? Or did he actually want to know what Stiles knew, and why he was reading up on lycanthropy? On a whim, I copied down the titles and authors into my book before quickly logging out of the computer and rushing out.

I was a little surprised when I reached the parking lot and found my mom's minivan waiting for me instead of Lydia's Beetle.

"Um, hey Mom," I greeted cautiously, sliding into the passenger seat. "Is everything alright?"

"Absolutely," she assured me. "I just thought that you and I could go out to dinner tonight, just the two of us. Is that okay?"

"Oh yeah, sure." I shrugged.

"Great." We peeled out of the parking lot and headed to one of my mom's favorite diners.

Though her visit was unexpected, we had a nice time. It was only by spending time with my mom that I realized I'd pretty much been glued to Lydia's side since school started, which meant I was kind of neglecting my relationship with my mother. We talked about her ongoing progress with her therapist, even managing to stray onto the topic of my dad. We spent a while reminiscing, and I was surprised to find that while I still felt a sad tug on my heart and my hand was attached to his dog tags the entire time, I didn't feel like I was suffocating or about to cry. Even better, mom didn't look on the verge of tears either. Still, we didn't want to push it, so after that she quickly changed the subject to how I was liking school. I told her all about Lydia's high school fame, how good Jackson was at lacrosse, and Allison's fretting over Scott. When I finished, Mom continued to look at me expectantly.

"And that's it?" she asked in a disbelieving tone. "Nothing else you want to tell me?" My stomach lurched. What the hell was that supposed to mean? I'd told her pretty much everything I could, expect the party of course, which meant no taking about Scott's weird exit or Derek Hale.

"Uh, yeah, pretty sure."

"That's interesting," she mused, pausing to take a sip of her drink. She leaned forward on the table conspiringly. "You know, a boy stopped by the house today asking for you."

"What?!" I exclaimed, eyes wide.

"Mhm," she confirmed with a smirk. "He was pretty cute too. Wanna tell me about him?" My mind was reeling. What the hell was Derek doing at my house? Fine, you wanna send a message so you show up at the library. Message received. But showing up to my house again? Talking to my mom? Asking for me? What the hell was that for? Derek hadn't even said anything important to me at the library, so there couldn't be a verbal message, which must have meant he already knew I wasn't home and just wanted me to know he'd been there…

"I-I don't know who you're talking about mom." She rolled her eyes.

"Oh come on, Sadie, I already know about him, so spill. Tall, adorable boy around your age? Short brown hair and big brown eyes? Great smile, a little twitchy?" I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. That wasn't Derek. Suddenly, realization and relief hit me like a truck.

"Stiles?" I said, sagging back in the booth. "Stiles Stilinski?"

"Yes! That was it," she said, beaming. "He came over to talk to you, but I said you were working. So? Who is he?"

"Uh, he's on the lacrosse team with Jackson and Scott," I answered simply. "I know him from school."

"Hm, know him well enough that he already knows where you live?" She quirked an eyebrow, causing me to roll my eyes.

"He's head over heels for Lydia, of course he knows where I live."

"Well I didn't see him asking to talk to Lydia while he was there." I sighed.

"He trails after her like a lovesick puppy, but I'm pretty sure Lydia doesn't know he exists."

"Aw," Mom cooed, half in disappointment on his behalf, and half over the seemingly adorable image she had of him. "Well, that's too bad. Maybe he can move onto you."

"Mom!" I groaned.

"What? He was so cute! A very cute, polite, funny boy!" I let my head sink into my hands. I was hoping it would take a little more than a week for my mom to start picking out potential boyfriends for me. I was just lucky she didn't seem to like Dylan Peters either. "We talked a little bit when he came over. Did you know his father's the sheriff?"

"No, Mom," I replied in a monotone voice. "I did not know that his father was the sheriff." She huffed.

"Well if you don't talk about each other, what do you kids talk about?"

Resigned, I relayed to her the story of Stiles Stilinski—how I'd accidentally waved to him on the first day, how he'd shown up at the library for the werewolf books, completely skipping over the party, and then how I'd been avoiding him for the sake of Allison and Lydia. After I'd told her about how he'd visited me at work today, she clasped her hands on the table, grinning at me.

"What?" I asked, uncomfortable under her content gaze.

"You're smiling." I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest.

"So what? He's a friend, Mom. I'm supposed to enjoy spending time with him." She stared at me a second longer.

"Are you sure there's nothing going on?" she finally gushed. I chuckled. Mom seemed more desperate for me to get a love life than I was, and that was impressive.

"Yeah, Mom. There's nothing going on with Stiles." I laughed inwardly at the irony.

There was definitely something weird going on with Stiles Stilinski. It just wasn't me.

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys! Sorry this one ran a tad short, but this will probably be the normal length of chapters. I actually kind of hate it, but important stuff that needed to happen, and so, we move on in life. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, the new favoriters and the new followers! I'm so glad you guys are enjoying this story. Only a little more Stiles action, I know I'm sorry. But I'm really going to take my time with that. Instead, you got some more Jackson and a lot more Derek! Sadie is definitely interested now, and she knows something weird is happening. I love hearing your theories, feelings and favorite parts, so please let me know what you think! Thanks again!**

**-Brittney**


	5. Chapter 5

The rest of the week went by smoothly as could be expected. Wednesday morning I'd greeted Allison, Stiles and Scott with a smile. I doubted that Scott had even noticed I was ignoring him really, but I apologized anyway, letting him know that any shortness he experienced from Lydia or myself was just because Jackson was being a baby in the hospital. I considered asking him about Derek, or telling Stiles about his appearance at the library, but ended up keeping my suspicions to myself. Scott seemed nervous enough as it was, but whether that was because he was worried about blowing his second chance with Allison or his first game playing first line coming up, I didn't know.

I was also spending more time with my mom, in an attempt to stop accompanying Lydia to the hospital. She usually wasn't there for long, but since she also never visited at the same time each day, I'd decided to keep my distance overall, lest I be dragged away on a surprise trip.

Thursday night, when she returned from her latest visit to her boyfriend, she managed to corner me in my room.

"Okay," she huffed, throwing herself down on my bed. "Would you like to explain to me where you've been all week?" I glanced up at her from my economics homework and nearly winced under her glare.

"Um, Beacon Hills?" She rolled her eyes.

"I meant while I've been at the hospital. We've been wondering." I quirked an eyebrow, smirking.

"Come on, Lyd. It's not like Jackson's been asking about me."

"No, of course not," she scoffed, though I couldn't tell if she was more annoyed with Jackson or me. "But I'm sure he'd appreciate the moral support." I rolled my eyes.

"Well, sorry if I don't want to spend my time in the hospital with you and _your _boyfriend while you bicker and he moans death threats to McCall." Lydia opened her mouth, ready with an indignant reply, but I cut her off. "Besides," I sighed. "I've been trying to spend time with Mom this week." Lydia's face softened almost immediately.

"How is she?" she asked, lowering her voice. I shrugged.

"Getting better, I guess. It's been weird for her, because with school and everything I've been spending a lot of time with you. So, she's alone again, and… I'm not sure if she's really ready to be on her own." It was mostly true. Mom had been struggling with loneliness since I'd gone back to school. She was used to sitting in her office and having my dad call her about three times a day just to say hi or complain about his co-workers. Now the phone remained eerily silent, and I knew she missed the constant annoyance of his griping. But she had been talking to the doctor about it, and at his suggestion put a framed photo of Dad on her desk. Now she complained to him about her co-workers instead. It wasn't dire, but I still felt like it was my responsibility to spend time with her.

"Well, fine then," Lydia said in resignation. She couldn't bring herself to be angry with me when I was being a "good person." "_But _you are coming with me to the hospital tomorrow to pick Jackson up when he's discharged."

"Oh, they're letting him out? That's great!" I exclaimed, actually pleased. "Are they letting him play?"

"They should," she answered, standing up and brushing off her skirt. "So! Before we pick him up you are also coming to the store to buy poster supplies with me! To make up for your lack of support, or course." Before I get in another word, she was striding out of my room as quickly as she had come.

The next morning, the school was abuzz with talk of the first lacrosse game of the season. Surprisingly, Lydia accompanied me on the walk from my locker to Allison's, where we usually met up before English.

"Allison!" she greeted brightly as we walked up. "God, you look absolutely killer today, as usual. I love that belt."

"Um, thanks Lydia," she replied, furrowing her eyebrows and glancing at me for help. I barely got up a hand to say hello.

"So," Lydia started before I could give a proper greeting. "Sadie and I just wanted to make sure that you're coming to the game tomorrow."

"Uh, yeah," Allison replied, grabbing her books from her locker. "I have to talk to my dad about it, but I was gonna try and go."

"Try?" Lydia asked, as if the word was foreign to her. "Allison, this is the first lacrosse game of the year. You can't miss it. Everyone is going to be there. And you want to support Jackson and Scott, don't you?" Allison's eyes widened at the slight verbal assault.

"Y-Yeah, of course I do." Lydia beamed.

"Great! Then we'll see you tomorrow." She started to turn away before another thought hit her. "Oh, and we're all going out after we win. Me, Sadie, Jackson, you and Scott, okay? Perfect." I crossed my arms and leaned on the wall next to Allison, and we both watched as the queen bee practically pranced away.

"Well that was…" Allison drifted off and I snorted.

"Brutal? Vicious? Narcissistic?" I offered. Allison chuckled.

"I was gonna say nice of her." I scoffed at her politeness as we pushed off the wall and started to English. "What's got you so worked up?"

"Nothing," I sighed. "Just Lydia roping me into her errands and forcing me to go to the hospital to pick up Jackson."

"Well he's your friend too, right? Shouldn't you be excited to see him?" I gave her a pointed look.

"Not when he's been fighting with Lydia and whining about his shoulder like a kid who fell off his bike." Allison threw her head back with a gracefully laugh. "But that's not it," I started, but at that moment we entered Neske's classroom. Unfortunately, Scott and Stiles were both sitting in their seats already. I grabbed Allison's arm before she could walk to her seat. "Hey just…Can you not tell Scott about our plans after the game yet? I wanna talk to you about something."

"Yeah, sure," she agreed, eyebrows descending in concern. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, fine. I'll tell you after class." She nodded, still slightly suspicious, but let me go on to my seat. I smiled at the boys, and then immersed myself in the essay on existentialism we were writing in class.

Forty minutes later—actually forty-three for me, as I could never seem to cram all the information I wanted to discuss into one class period—Allison walked me to my locker to talk.

"It's just," I started. "I was Lydia and Jackson's third wheel for a lot of the summer. And being a third wheel can suck. But you know what's worse?"

"What?"

"Being a fifth wheel." Allison smiled at me sweetly.

"Come on, Sadie, it won't be that bad. You know Scott and I aren't going to shut you out or anything." I shook my head adamantly.

"Maybe not on purpose, but I know for a fact that all of Scott's attention is going to be on you. And with all that attention, it's only natural for you to be focusing on him. Like at least eighty percent, and increasing from there." I sighed. "I just wanted to let you know I'm probably not going," I confessed. Allison's eyes widened.

"No!" she said immediately, before lowering her voice. "No, no, you can't not be there. Then it would just be Lydia, Jackson, Scott and me. I-I can't go on a double date with Lydia and Jackson."

"I'm sorry, Allison," I groaned. "But I can't go with you guys. I'm not gonna go sit in a diner sandwiched by myself between two lovey-dovey couples. I'm not a masochist." Her shoulders sagged as I slammed my locker shut with finality and began to walk away to my next class.

"Wait!" she piped, running up to me and grabbing my shoulder. "What if you weren't by yourself?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I'll just tell Scott to invite Stiles," she replied with a proud smile.

"I don't know," I drawled, biting my lip.

"Oh come on," she pleaded. "Stiles and Scott hardly go anywhere without each other anyway, and I really, really don't want to be alone with them. Jackson and Scott will probably be fighting, and Lydia's just…intense…" I smirked at the extremely accurate word, and Allison saw the open display of weakness. She took my hand in both of hers, bending her knees and looking up at me with puppy dog eyes. "Please, Sadie?" Finally, I sighed.

"Alright, alright, fine. Tell Scott to invite Stiles and _if _he says yes, then I'll come with you guys."

"Ah!" Allison squealed, throwing her arms around me. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! I'll tell Scott when I see him for lunch!" Before I could crack a joke about how she was abandoning me with Lydia for lunch, she was practically skipping away down the hall. I smirked, rolling my eyes. I guess if I had Stiles there it wouldn't be too bad. At least I'd have someone to pig out with and make fun of everyone. Feeling slightly better, I trotted off to math with Danny.

The day was pretty normal after that. At least, it was until lunch. I waved to Allison as she walked passed the table, grin a mile wide, on her way to have lunch with Scott. Suddenly, a tray slammed down her tray across from me, shaking the table violently and causing me to jump about a foot in the air.

"What did you just say?!" Lydia demanded. I raised my eyebrow in confusion, looking around wildly as Danny slid into the seat next to me, a frustrated look on his face.

"Apparently McCall says he's not playing tomorrow," he repeated, picking at his own food. My jaw dropped.

"What?! Why?!" Danny turned to me with wide eyes and a shrug.

"No idea. All I know is that Coach stopped me earlier and asked for me to keep an eye on him. I guess McCall went to talk to him earlier and asked to duck out. Something about aggression."

"Not hard to believe the way he mauled Jackson," Lydia snapped. "I bet he's just cracking under the pressure of being first line, like the loser he is."

"Lydia," I said in a warning tone, but Eric Bradley leaned in from somewhere farther down the table, moving the conversation along.

"Whatever it is, Coach said that if he doesn't play in the game tomorrow he's losing his spot on first line."

"What?" I gasped. "He can't do that! Everyone saw how amazing Scott was on the field."

"It's not just about skill," Matt Heifer shrugged.

"But Coach wants him to play," Danny added. "So someone's gotta convince him, whatever it is."

"Oh I'll convince him," Lydia volunteered in a dangerous tone. "I know exactly the push he needs." I thought about asking, but decided it was probably better not to get too involved with Lydia's crazy plans. Knowing Lydia, and Scott actually, it was more than likely going to involve Allison.

Before I could protest to her involvement, the conversation changed once more. We spent the rest of lunch talking about the curfew that had been placed on the town, due to a dead body they found in the woods a week or two prior. Everyone was pretty much in agreement that the curfew was unnecessary. The girl had been dead for a while now, and it seemed silly to wait this long to institute a protective curfew. Lydia insisted that we would still be going out, no matter what the police officially said. While I didn't think that would go over with my mom, especially so soon after losing my father, I had to agree for the time being.

At the end of the day, Allison chased me down at my locker, looking frantic.

"Sadie! Sadie, I need to talk to you!"

"Woah, woah, woah," I said holding up my hands and facing her. "Okay, breathe. What's wrong?" She leaned on the wall next to me, tipping her head back so it banged against lockers.

"Scott," she said simply. I rolled my eyes.

"Allison, I swear to God…"

"No, Sadie, listen. Okay? So you put my jacket back in my locker, right? And he immediately asks me about that guy Derek."

_That _caught my attention. My head snapped towards her, arm frozen half inside my locker. Allison had not one, but two jackets slung over her arm. One was the jacket she had worn to school this morning. The other, I realized with a pang of fear, was the jacket we'd decided she would wear to my party last week. The one I was fairly certain I had seen her leave in, which meant that if she had only gotten it back now, there was only one person who could have had it all this time. Derek Hale.

Even as these thoughts raced through my head, Allison seemed oblivious.

"According to Scott they're not friends, which I don't get cause he told Derek about giving me the pen, right? And then he starts asking all of these questions like 'how much did you talk?' and 'what did you say to him?' He seemed really upset, like it was scary. Is that weird?"

I stared at Allison, watching as she relayed the story with wide eyes and flailing hands. From what I could figure out, Scott had every right to be upset. It didn't seem like he or Stiles had ever been friends with Derek Hale, and every altercation I'd had with the guy had screamed "danger." And now it seemed like Derek had shown up to return her jacket by breaking into her locker a week later, because _that_ was good etiquette. Every logical fiber of my being told me I should tell Allison everything I knew. I should tell her that Derek didn't know Scott or Stiles, that I knew about his family history and the fire, that he'd shown up at the library while I was working. And instead, instinct took over. I opened up my mouth and lied.

"I don't think that's weird," I said, closing my locker. "I mean, he's obviously gonna be a little worried about another guy driving you home from your date, even if it was his fault. He's nervous. Probably should be, since Derek's that cute." Allison laughed, falling into step beside me.

"I don't know," she said, shaking her head. "He just seemed so upset, you know? Like, scary irrational upset." I shrugged.

"I wouldn't worry about it too much. I've heard he's super anxious about the game tomorrow. I'm sure he didn't mean to take out his frustrations on you."

"Yeah, I guess," Allison sighed. "Oh! Speaking of people acting oddly, do you know what's gotten into Lydia? Like, did you say something to her?"

I smirked, remembering one or two times that day I'd seen Lydia dragging Allison through the halls, introducing her to all my favorite, and least favorite, lacrosse players. I was sure it was part of her motivational plan for Scott, but Allison didn't need to know that. I knew that Lydia did actually like Allison. She just had a hard time expressing it in non-Lydia terms. Introducing her to all the boys on the team was Lydia's way of being nice, even if she was simultaneously using her to get McCall to play. I also felt that Scott wouldn't want Allison know how strong her influence on him was, how he could be manipulated through her actions. For some reason, I felt like I needed to honor that as well. So once again, I decided against telling Allison the whole truth. Instead, I shrugged once more.

"Lydia means well," I said off-handedly. "She wants you to come to the game and be comfortable. In her mind, that logically means she should introduce you to the all the cute, popular boys on the lacrosse team. That's what she did with me too." I chuckled a bit, thinking about my similar reluctance to being shown off like one of Lydia's new toys. "She really does like you," I assured her. "She's just…Lydia." Allison smiled.

"Okay. I trust you." I smiled sheepishly as we paused in our walk outside. She hugged me. "Thank you so much for listening to all of my stupid ranting."

"Hey, it's fine. Not stupid at all," I laughed, patting her back before I pulled away.

"I've gotta run," she said, pulling a hand through her hair. "My dad's here, but do you wanna come over tomorrow? Hang out and help me keep me calm before the game?"

"Allison," I beamed. "You have no idea how much I want to be at your house and not with Lydia tomorrow." She laughed again, gripping the straps on her bag.

"Actually I think I do. Okay, I'll talk to you later!" With that, Allison ran off to her father's large red truck, and I walked over to the Beetle.

Lydia drove us home, where we ended up being trapped by our mothers until we finished our homework for the entire weekend. Lyd only threw a slight fit, but Miss Eleanor assured her Jackson wouldn't be released until later that night, and she was sure he last a couple more hours without seeing her. I was quite content to grab some cookies and seclude myself in my room. I spent most of the time on the computer, but eventually got everything done. When Lydia got antsy, she brought her work to my room and finish there. Unfortunately, she had twice as much work as I did and found it extremely hard to concentrate on her advanced French homework while I was aimlessly scrolling around the internet. Eventually, she stormed out of my room once more in frustration.

After Lydia had finished her assignments, and quickly scarfed down dinner, she grabbed my arm in a vice grip and was dragging me out to the car. We stopped by the craft store so we could pick up a couple pieces of cardstock for posters for the game tomorrow, alone with a new pack of markers. Lydia tossed them in the back hap hazardously before speeding away to Beacon Hills Hospital. We arrived a good hour or so before Jackson was going to be let out, but this time I had come prepared. We settled down in two chairs in the waiting room and I pulled my latest library book out of my bag, flipping open to my last spot.

Twenty minutes later, Lydia was practically twitching in the chair next to me. She was bored with her phone, bored with the two pamphlets she'd picked up, and bored of the silence. She pressed her back into the chair, huffing and tossing her ankle to some unknown tune. I suffered through about ten minutes of her fidgeting before I broke.

"So, when did you decide to become Allison's welcome committee?" I asked casually, turning the page of my book flippantly. Lydia instantly perked up at the distraction, turning to face me.

"When Scott McCall told me he wasn't playing tomorrow's game," she replied honestly. "I figured introducing Allison to all the _much_ hotter, _much_ cooler boys on the team might give him a little motivation to prove himself."

"So you're using her?" I clarified, not looking up from the page.

"Oh come on," Lydia scoffed. "Don't say it like that. I'm trying to do something nice. You haven't introduced her to anyone, and I can't very well sit by while a gem like Allison's just hanging out with someone like McCall."

"Wow, Lydia," I said, rolling my eyes. "You're so thoughtful." Instead of getting angry at my comment, she giggled, smacking my arm.

"Shut up. I don't hear you complaining."

"Yeah," I retorted, finally glancing up at her from my book. "That's because you told me to shut up." We laughed loudly, earning ourselves a disapproving but amused look from one of the nurses behind the counter. A whirring noise started to emerge from Lydia's pocketbook. She scrambled for it, pulling out her phone. I rolled my eyes once more. "You know, you're not really supposed to use your cell phone in the hospital. And I'm pretty sure," I paused to glance at the name on the screen, "a call from Evie is not an emergency."

"Of course not," she replied, waving me off. "That's why I have Bluetooth. So it looks like I'm talking to you, duh." I shook my head with a smile, returning to my book.

I tried to concentrate on the characters in my book, but every couple seconds Lydia's voice would interrupt me and I would have to look up so that she could continue her apparently pressing phone call.

After about twenty minutes of being a third party participant in Lydia's advice to Evie about her boyfriend Brian, I slammed the book shut.

"I have to go to the bathroom," I sighed, standing up and putting my purse down on the chair behind me. Lydia grabbed at my forearm.

"What? No! You can't go! If you leave, people are going to think I'm talking to myself." I smiled sardonically.

"Well then, I guess you should try to stop talking so much. One of the nurses might make you stay here." I pulled my arm back. Lydia pouted like a child, but I ignored her and walked to the bathroom. I didn't really have to go, of course, but I took my sweet time in there. I probably wasted about ten minutes playing a game on my phone, enjoying the silence. I touched up my makeup, tousled my hair, and washed my hands twice. Eventually though, the bathroom had lost all its charm as well, and I begrudgingly made my way back to the waiting room to sit with Lydia. It wouldn't be that long before Jackson got out anyway.

When I returned, I was pleased to find something much more entertaining than my library book waiting for me. The one and only Stiles Stilinski was leaning over-casually on the hospital counter, dressed in the same T-shirt and plaid button up he had worn to school. He hadn't spotted me though. Instead his attention was completely held by my best friend, sitting in a chair not to far away. Lydia had her legs crossed, still facing the now-vacant seat I had been sitting in not too long ago, and from the looks of it still on the phone. Her ruse seemed to be working perfectly, though, as Stiles didn't seem to notice that she was occupied. I smirked as he ran his hands down his face nervously, and I sidled over inconspicuously so I was within hearing range for the show. I picked up a pamphlet from the counter and turned my back as he finally got up the nerve to walk over to her.

"Hey! Lydia!" he asked in a shaky voice. "You probably don't remember me, um… I sit behind you in biology? Uh…" I raised my hand over my mouth, covering my smirk and attempting to keep myself from giggling. "Anyway, I always thought that we just had this kind of connection? You know, unspoken, of course, and uh…maybe it'd be kinda cool to get to know each other a little better!" I could hear him breathing deeply, probably shaking from the effort it took to keep his voice even remotely even. I held my breath before Lydia finally spoke.

"Hold on, give me a second," she said, assumedly to Evie. "Uh yeah, I didn't get any of what you just said. Is it worth repeating?" Stiles stuttered nervously and I held in a sigh of pity for the poor kid. Lydia could be vicious.

"Uh…no…Sorry," he replied, and I winced at the tone of defeat in his voice. Lydia practically scoffed in disgust, and I heard Stiles back away. "I'm gonna sit… Yeah, you don't care."

"Okay," Lydia confirmed, her high, patronizing voice assuring him that she did, in fact, not care. I rolled my eyes, sliding my arms off the counter and turning around. Stiles had collapsed into a chair just around the corner from mine, crushing a pamphlet in between his hands as he mentally kicked himself for talking to the brutal strawberry blonde. Lydia smiled and waved as I joined her, sitting in my own chair once more. She gestured to the Bluetooth in her ear, kindly letting me know that she was still on the phone. I grinned and nodded, but instead of returning to my book, I turned to the right, where Stiles's shoulder was just visible around the corner. I cleared my throat.

"For future reference," I stage whispered, "leading with 'we have a connection' is probably the worst possible thing to do. Like ever." Stiles jumped from his seat, spinning around in a whirl of flailing arms. I realized too late I was probably whispering into his ear like a creep, but I hadn't put too much thought into it, to be honest. His hand clutched at his chest and he calmed down once he realized it was me.

"S-Sadie!" he said, breathing heavily. "God, don't…don't do that! Hi! What are you doing here?" I shrugged, glancing over my shoulder to check that Lydia was still on the phone before facing him.

"Lydia dragged me with her to pick up Jackson." I leaned on the arm of my chair, one leg tucked up on the chair. He mirrored my actions, glancing back and forth between Lydia and I.

"R-Right, yeah I…wait… Did you know she was on the phone?" I puckered my lips, tossing my head to the side and nodding. Stiles dropped his head, nearly turning away from me. "Well thanks. Couldn't have warned me?"

"What, and miss the show?" I teased. I poked his shoulder when I was afraid he actually wouldn't look back. "Besides, I was giving her the benefit of the doubt."

"Yeah, the doubt she'd agree to hang out with a loser like me?"

"No," I denied, affronted. "The doubt she'd act like a decent person." Stiles looked over at me with a questioning look. I glanced back at my best friend to see her back was turned, hand pressing the earpiece into her head and engaged in a hushed conversation. I turned back to Stiles. "Look, just because she was on the phone didn't mean she had to brush you off like that. She just as easily could have said, 'Oh sorry I was on the phone, what were you saying?' instead of 'is it worth repeating?' That's just Lydia thinking she's better than everyone."

"She doesn't think she's better than everyone," Stiles defended immediately. "I mean, she's your friend right?"

"Lydia's my best friend," I agreed. "And I think it's probably pretty safe to assume I'm hers." I glanced over my shoulder before leaning in to whisper to Stiles. "But she still thinks she's better than me. And you know that's fine, that's just Lydia. She think's I'm a great person with good qualities who deserves the best I can get, but she's legitimately confident enough that she sees herself as better." I shrugged, letting him know that it didn't bother me. I knew Lydia was a good person, and a fantastic friend. She just also tended to be a little self-centered. Stiles rested his head in his hands.

"Doesn't matter, I guess," he sighed. "She's never paid any attention to me. Even when we were in the same class, it's like because I wasn't friends with her friends I didn't even exist."

"Well you're bound to be on her radar this year," I said encouragingly. "I mean, Allison's friends with Scott, talk of the town, and you're his best friend. Plus, you're friends with me." I pushed his shoulder a little bit with a smile. "Now come on, what about you?"

"Me?" he repeated, glancing over my shoulder to make sure Lydia was still occupied before continuing in a hushed voice. "I-I have been in love with Lydia since like the third grade. Okay? Like, I let her take one of my colored pencils and somehow winded up selling my soul. A-And that's probably the last time she actually spoke to me voluntarily, too. Even in the third grade she was starting to get really pretty and popular. Not that I didn't always think she was pretty, but like noticeably prettier than everyone else so that everyone noticed. And after that she got, she got swept away by the popular crowd and pretty much never looked at me again. I just had to look at her from behind in class or when she walked by in the hall. Cause I never had the guts to talk to her, you know? Like, I just know that she's so beautiful and talented and smart, so much smarter than people give her credit for. And I know that, but I'm not…I'm not any of those things so…why would she talk to me? And it just…it sucks…." His voice nearly broke on the last word before we settled into silence.

I was staring at Stiles, eyes wide with sympathy and mouth slightly agape. I wasn't sure what I had been expecting from him, but it certainly wasn't the long, heartfelt speech I'd received. I almost felt like crying myself. I knew that Lydia had a long line of boys who loved her, but not like this. Maybe I had assumed that Stiles was just another horny teenage boy who wanted to get with Lydia because she was popular and hot. Clearly that wasn't true. For someone who hadn't spent much time with her at all, Stiles seemed to understand Lydia a lot better than most of the people who called themselves her friends. Usually I frowned upon using the word 'love,' especially in high school relationships, but with him… All I knew was that if anyone ever fell in love with me, that was how I'd want to them to talk about me.

Suddenly, I was overcome with a sort of respect for the cute, twitchy, brown-eyed boy in front of me. I'd already decided he was a good kid, funny and loyal to his friends, full of good intentions. But he also seemed to have a unique, genuine way of seeing people. He was able to see Lydia for everything she didn't usually advertise to the world, the thoughtfulness, the intelligence, the pure drive and determination. Knowing that he saw my best friend in such a good light made me like Stiles all the more. On top of that, he was clearly some sort of diamond in the rough. His deep and thoughtful feelings for Lydia almost restored my hope that there were decent boys out there, and not just a world full of boys like Dylan Peters.

"I'm sorry," I managed to get out, cautiously resting my hand on his. Stiles looked up at me, his copper brown eyes meeting my chocolaty ones. I tried to think to him how great he seemed, and how sorry I was that Lydia didn't feel the same, because I was sure I couldn't put it into words without making it sound weird and awkward. I held the eye contact, giving him a genuine smile of quiet admiration instead of one of pity. I assumed he understood what my silent look meant, because he smiled a little too, ducking his head in an attempt to hide the splotches of pink rising in his cheeks. So instead of trying to explain myself, I changed the subject. "I meant why are you at the hospital." His head snapped back to me, eyes wide.

"Why am I-? What?" He looked around wildly, as if he'd only just realized he was sitting in the hospital's waiting room. "O-Oh! Right! I, um… Scott."

"Oh my God, is he okay?" I asked, leaning forward with concern.

"No!" he said immediately. "I mean—yes! He's fine! I didn't mean-! His um, his mom works here and he needed to stop by and talk to her about something, so I drove him."

"Oh, that's sweet," I said simply.

"Sorry," Stiles continued to ramble. "You know, we were just—and I thought you meant…"

"No, no, it's fine," I waved him off. "I'm glad you could tell me." Before he could reply, Lydia's voice made itself noticeable once more.

"Okay, I've gotta go. Bye Evie." I turned back to Lydia as she practically threw her earpiece back into her purse. "God what a nightmare," she muttered to me, rolling her eyes as she stood up and smiled. I followed her gaze, suddenly noticing the irate Jackson Whittlemore walking towards us, rolling his shoulder.

"Jackson, hey!" I greeted walking toward him with Lydia. "How ya feeling?" He nodded in my direction as a greeting, glaring a little harder and gripping his arm.

"Did he do it?" Lydia asked, suddenly all business.

"He said not to make a habit of it, but one cortisone shot won't kill me."

"You should get one right before the game, too," Lydia suggested snidely. Jackson released his arm, giving her a pointed look that said he clearly didn't want to talk about it. "The pros do it all the time," she went on, crossing her arms. "You wanna be a little high school amateur? Or do you want to go pro?" She swayed over to him, taking his hands in hers and leaning up to kiss him with a smirk. I barely watched them make out for a second before my lip curled and I turned back to the chairs. Stiles jumped, hiding his face behind a booklet on the menstrual cycle, which he was pretending to read instead of watching Lydia and Jackson kissing. I smirked, walking over to grab my bag.

"Well, I'm outta here, Stilinski."

"Hm? Oh! Yeah, sure. Bye, Sadie."

"I'll see you at the game tomorrow," I confirmed. "Good luck."

"Eh, I don't need it," he shrugged, peering around me to watch Lydia as she pressed herself against Jackson. "I never get to play."

"Well then, good luck in your ongoing quest to get on the field." I smirked, raising my hand in a wave and beginning to back away. "Nice reading choice, by the way." Stiles raised an eyebrow, closing his booklet to look at the cover. His face contorted in disgust and he dropped the pamphlet as if he'd been burned, wiping his hands on his shirt. I laughed, turning around to the happily reunited couple, who were still swapping spit. "Come on," I said, breaking them apart as gently as possible and walking between them. "Let's get Jackson's paperwork filled out and go. You've gotta be just as ready to get out of here as I am."

"You have no idea," he groaned from behind me, wrapping his arm around Lydia's waist as we walked towards the discharge desk.

It was tragic, I thought as Jackson glowered down at the paperwork he was filling out, girlfriend glued to his side, that Lydia and I had to be the ones picking him up from the hospital. Mr. and Mrs. Whittlemore were both working at the moment, unable to take off. Of course, they'd promised to come see his first game of the season tomorrow. I knew that they loved Jackson more than anything, but it still seemed wrong that they couldn't be here. Lydia and I would just have to love him in their stead.

I watched the couple bicker as we got into Lydia's car, driving away from the hospital and towards Jackson's house. These days it seemed like they were either fighting or making out; there was no in between, no happy, romantic moments when they just relaxed and enjoyed each other's company. At least, there were none of those when I was around, nor that Lydia had gushed to me about. I'd always imagined that to be the normal state for couples in a relationship. Not necessarily being cutesy or romantic all the time, but a quiet contentedness knowing that they knew all about their significant other, thought they were a truly amazing person, and wanted to spend time with them whether it was going out on a date or spending a boring night in. Lately, it didn't seem like Lydia and Jackson could do anything together without fighting.

My mind strayed to Stiles, sitting in the hospital waiting room and pouring out his feelings for Lydia. I didn't think Jackson liked Lydia in the same way Stiles did, but simultaneously, I knew that he loved her. I'd seen him be viciously protective of her, puff himself up to try and impress her, say something just to get her to smile. I felt that for the most part, Lydia was good for him. They both came from similar situations. They were both very well off, with money, beauty and popularity, and slightly neglectful parents. They felt like they had to prove themselves to the world. I think that seeing Lydia was all that as well as a good person made Jackson a better person too. And Jackson, well…he made Lydia happy. I wasn't sure just what it was she saw in him, perhaps those glimpses of a great person that very few were lucky to see, but I knew that she was head over heels for him. They fought a lot, but she wanted the best for him and I knew he liked having her around. They'd both already visibly relaxed since they were together. They needed each other.

When we dropped Jackson off at his house, everyone got out. I was allowed to hug him gently, saying hello, welcome back, feel better, goodbye, and good luck tomorrow all at once. I grinned when I pulled away, promptly walking to the car so Lydia could take my place in private. I sat in the passenger seat, reading my book until Lydia came back, her hair slightly tousled and lipstick smudges.

"Yeah," she said breathlessly, fixing her appearance in the rearview mirror. "He'll be fine tomorrow." I threw my head back in laughter, and Lydia joined in as we drove back home to get a good night's rest before the game the next day.

I was sure it was going to be pretty interesting.

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys! Another short-ish chapter, and it's a day later than I wanted, but it's because the next one is longer! I promise! A lot more relationship development in this one, which I had a blast with. Especially Stiles. We all know how much he loves Lydia, but I think that a lot of people miss that Lydia doesn't go for Stiles because she really is in love with Jackson, and Jackson really is in love with her, no matter how superficial and problematic they may seem. That's something I really wanted to emphasize. I hope you like the way everything's going. Remember to let my know what you think! I've gotten a lot of positive feedback about Sadie's attitude and humor, which I am so, so thankful for, so even if you just want to let me know what your favorite funny-line was so I can keep the zingers coming! Thank you so much for reading again!**

**-Brittney**


	6. Chapter 6

"Um, excuse me!"

_Busted._

I froze, wincing as I turned around to face Lydia who was glaring at me with her hands on her hips. My mother stood behind the kitchen counter, smirking as she watched me trying to sneak out of the house.

"Yes?" I asked tentatively.

"Just where do you think you're going?"

"Homework date. At Allison's house." Lydia narrowed her eyes.

"You finished your homework yesterday."

"Right!" I laughed nervously. "I should probably go tell her that!" Lydia crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at me. "You know, she really needs my help on English, and math…and chemistry… I promised her we were gonna hang out before the game."

"But you're supposed to help me with poster duty!" Lydia whined. I glanced at my mom, silently begging for help, but she held up her hands.

"And I have been helping you!" I replied. "All day!"

"You were asleep all morning," Lydia complained. Well, that was half true, I guessed. I had turned off my alarm clock so I could sleep in. But after that I'd just sat in bed with my laptop and the drapes closed, freezing every time I heard Lydia open the door to see if I was up yet. She'd finally driven me out around one, and I was forced to get out of bed and act like an actual member of society.

"Yes," I conceded, "but I've been helping you since I got up! I helped you think of all the different slogans you wanted to use, and I helped you pick your outfit, and let you pick my outfit. I promised her I was going to go over. I think Allison might be the only one as nervous as Scott for Scott to play." Lydia glared at me for a second longer before angrily tossing her hair over her shoulder.

"Fine," she huffed. "But you are going to help me hold up Jackson's signs, and I'm trusting you to make sure Allison is fabulously dressed for our outing afterwards." I nodded graciously and began to walk away when my mom spoke up.

"Woah, woah, woah," she interrupted, holding her hands up. "What outing afterwards?"

"Um, after the game," I said slowly, hoisting my purse higher on my shoulder. "We were just gonna go out for some food. Lydia, Jackson, Allison, Scott and I. Maybe Stiles?"

"I'm sorry, what don't you understand about police enforced curfew?" she retorted, crossing her arms in a dangerous manner, very similar to how Lydia had looked moments ago.

"Mom, it's just food."

"Yeah? Well it's just a wild animal on the loose that killed a girl a few weeks ago."

"Miss Claire," Lydia started in a sweet, rationalizing voice, but Mom silenced her with a hand.

"No, Lydia. I'm not your mother and I can't stop you from going out, but I'm sure Eleanor wouldn't be too pleased either. Now, Sadie, I just lost your father…"

"Mom!"

"-and I'm not going to lose you!"

"Mom," I basically snarled. "Don't make this about Dad! This isn't about Dad!"

"You are not going and that's final." I tried to stare her down, but eventually looked over to Lydia. She was standing frozen and wide-eyed in the doorway, startled by the scene my mother and I were causing. She pursed her lips, eyes softening when she caught my gaze.

"I'll see you at the game, Sadie," she said, before backing out of the room. Neither of us moved as we listened to Lydia's light footsteps speed up the stairs. When I heard her door close I practically skipped over to my mother, accepting the car keys from her waiting hand.

"Thank you!" I sang, kissing her on the cheek.

"Was that good enough?" she laughed.

"Good enough? Mom, you were beautiful! Molto bene!" I touched the tips of my fingers to my lips and exploded them with a kiss.

"Are you sure you don't want to go out with Stiles? This sounds kind of like a group date to me." I rolled my eyes.

"Yes, Mom, I'm sure I don't want to go. One, I'm not hanging out with the two pairs of lovebirds. Two, I'm not even sure if Stiles would be coming. Three, it wouldn't be a date if he did."

"Sadie!" she whined, imitating Lydia's voice. I laughed, waving her off.

"Goodbye, Mother!"

"Fine. Have a nice time!"

I sped out to the mini van, happy to be out of the house. It also felt nice to be driving myself again instead of being a passenger in Lydia's car. The van may not have been stylish, but at least I had room to extend my legs, as opposed to the cramped feeling of the Beatle. I checked Allison's address one more time before pulling out of the driveway.

The Argents lived in a really nice house. Maybe not "nice" like Lydia and I, or the Whittlemores, but it was a large, clean house that was still grander than what I was used to before the move. It was a two story brick house with fancy white molding, huge windows, columns in front of the door and everything. I looked to the upstairs window just as Allison appeared. She waved, then ducked away from the window, presumably to meet me downstairs. I hopped out of the van and walked up onto the porch, barely raising my hand to knock before Allison swung the door open.

"Hey!" she exclaimed.

"Hi!" I replied, mimicking her voice before chuckling at her eagerness.

"Sorry," she laughed, stepping aside. "Come in! Mom! Dad! Sadie's here!" I cautiously stepped inside, looking around at the staircase and second floor landing. "I'm gonna apologize in advance," Allison whispered. "You're the first friend I've brought over in a while and my parents…well, they're excited."

As if on cue, a man I assumed was Allison's father appeared in the archway to the living room. He was tall and slim, and was dressed in a blue button up shirt and grey pants. His hair was slightly untidy, but had a pair of very sharp eyes, which at the moment were practically smiling themselves.

"Hi," He greeted, meeting us in the front room. "You must be Allison's friend."

"Dad!" Allison piped, confirming my suspicions. "This is my friend Sadie Bennet, from school. Sadie, this is my dad."

"Chris Argent," he introduced, holding out his hand. I accepted, shaking it firmly.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Argent," I smiled.

"And you as well," he replied. "Allison's told us all about you." Allison let out an obligatory groan as she led the way into the living room.

"Dad!"

"I know, I know," he said, holding up his hand in surrender. "I'm embarrassing you. Sorry, I'm your father. It comes with the job."

"Yeah, well Sadie and I are gonna hang out in my room away from you and your job." I laughed as she tried to tug me towards the stairs.

"Allison," her father interrupted, calling us back. "Is Sadie staying for dinner?"

"She's a big girl, Chris, she can decide on her own," teased a new voice. I looked over to another door, which must have been the entrance to the kitchen, as Allison's mother walked out. She was a short woman with a very severe looking face. She had short red hair, which somehow managed to compliment her maroon blouse instead of clash with it. And if I thought Allison's father had sharp eyes, well… They were nothing compared to his wife's. I tried to remain still as she scanned me, and I felt as though she was scrutinizing every thread and tick for a judgment of my character. But she was smiling warmly just the same. "Hello," she greeted, wiping her hands with a dishtowel before offering one. "I'm Victoria, Allison's mother."

"Sadie Bennet," I replied mechanically, nearly wincing as the woman shook my hand with a vice grip. "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Argent."

"Well, Sadie, you are welcome to stay for dinner, if you'd like. I'm making gigli puttanesca."

"Oh, I don't discriminate between pastas," I said adamantly, nodding my head before laughing. "That sounds lovely, thank you."

"Great," Mr. Argent said brightly. "Why don't you girls head upstairs? It sounds like you have a lot to discuss." I turned to Allison, raising my eyebrows.

"Oh, I was telling them about how we have that chemistry test on Friday that we're studying for." She raised her eyebrows high and gave me a pointed look. I had to repress a sigh at her overly obvious face.

"Yeah," I lied easily. "From what I hear Mr. Harris is pretty strict, so we should have our work cut out for us."

"Well, you girls get to work," Mrs. Argent ordered. "I'll pop upstairs to tell you when dinner's ready."

"Thanks Mom!" Allison squeaked gratefully before yanking me out of the living room. "Like I said, excited."

"Allison, calm down," I whispered when we were safely on the second landing. "They seem completely normal. Intense maybe, but normal." Allison shook her head, leading the way to her room.

"Well, this is it," she sighed, letting me walk in first so she could close the door behind her.

It was a nice room, or at least, it looked like it was going to be. The walls were an orangey tan, where they could be seen from behind the piles and piles of boxes. The only signs of ongoing life were the clothes in the closet to my left, the desk on the right wall with the computer on and humming quietly, and the tangled sheets on the bed opposite it. There were a few books here and there, and some magazines, but for the most part, Allison still seemed to be living out of boxes.

"Remind me, were you reluctant to move?" I asked sarcastically, gesturing around to the mess. "Cause I can't really tell."

"Ha ha," she laughed sardonically. "It's a work in progress. But yeah, originally I was a bit bitter about moving. Sometimes it feels like we move so much, there's just no point in unpacking."

"Originally?" I asked, dropping my purse and sitting on the end of the bed. She smiled shyly.

"Well, making friends makes it easier to want to stay." I beamed. "Which is why," she started, turning to pick up a few cans from her desk. "You're gonna help me pick a new color for these god awful walls."

"Painting!" I said excitedly, catching one of the cans she tossed me. "Painting I can do."

For the next couple hours, Allison and I fell into easy conversation. We flipped through a couple of the interior design magazines she had bought, picking out our favorite ideas and taping them to the walls. We put on music and painted large splotches of different colors all over the room. I'd been adamant about putting up different colors before she decided, even if it looked weird for a while. If you couldn't live with the color on your wall for a few weeks, you were gonna hate yourself when you painted your whole room and found out you hated it later. We did end up studying for a little while. The test hadn't been a lie, but Allison and I both had the gift of school, which meant getting good grades by paying attention, participating in class and doing the homework. Extra studying didn't seem to be ingrained in either or our brains. Mostly, we outlined what we had done so far in school, and what we were supposed to be covering in the upcoming week. This way, if we were feeling nervous the night before the test, we knew exactly which parts of our notes to read and what to focus on. After that, though, we strayed easily onto the topic of boys. Which really meant we spent a lot of time talking about Scott and Allison.

"I mean, he was being super scary!" she exclaimed, hair tumbling towards the floor as her head hung upside down off the end of her bed. "Like freaky, controlling, possessive boyfriend scary! That should freak me out, shouldn't it?"

"I think it's natural to be a little freaked out, yeah," I conceded, spinning back and forth in her desk chair. She heaved a giant sigh.

"Then why don't I like him any less?"

"Because that's not the way the heart works," I replied sagely. Allison looked over at me with a pouty, disappointed look, and I nearly laughed. "You're attracted to Scott, and that's fine. He seems like a really good kid, and if you two have a spark, that's just the way it is. He's not gonna be perfect, and no one is, but apparently you like him enough that you're willing to look past his glaringly obvious and potentially problematic flaws to make it work. That can be scary, sure, but I think it's sweet that you like him so much." Allison winced, pulling her hands over her face.

"Ugh, well I like him that much. I don't know if he likes me that much." I groaned, throwing my head back in annoyance.

"Allison, have you seen the way that kid looks at you? It is the most adorable, pathetic look I have ever seen a guy wear. How many times do I have to tell you? He is whipped with a capital W."

"Whipped?" she clarified timidly, biting her lip in an attempt to hide her pleasure at the notion.

"Like a bucket of cream," I assured her, before shrugging. "Or a victim of Catwoman. You can choose your own analogy." Allison giggled, letting her arms flop down so her wrists lightly smacked the floor.

"Okay, so maybe he likes me. But what if nothing comes from it? I mean, he hasn't even kissed me." That made me laugh outright, throwing my head back derisively.

"You've been on one date!" I shook my head. "Look, from what I know, Scott is new to this whole thing. Lydia didn't even know his name until this year, so my guess is that he's been in the background for a while. Just a quiet, awkward guy that everyone kind of ignored. And now suddenly he's on first line, is practically the talk of the school, has a one on one feud with Jackson Whittlemore, and a pretty girl fretting over his attention? That's a whole new ball game for him! Scott's just shy, and he doesn't want to mess anything up. You might even have to make the first move." Allison's eyes went wide.

"No!" she freaked. "I can't do that! I don't really know what I'm doing either! I cannot do that!"

"I'm not gonna give you the strong, independent woman speech," I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "If you want to wait for him to make the first move, that's fine, but it might be a while. I'm just saying you might need to give him a little more obvious encouragement."

"Encouragement?" she repeated.

"Yeah," I said reluctantly. "Like you might have to straight up tell him that you're waiting on him." Allison let out a muffled scream through her tightly closed lips, rolling onto her stomach and propping her elbows on the bed.

"No," she decided, resting her chin in her hands. "I don't want to talk about me anymore. Let's talk about you."

"What about me?" I said apprehensively.

"You! Boys! Come on, Sadie, you've been living here all summer. There's got to be someone who's caught your eye." I licked my lips and winced, sitting on my hands.

"Not really," I admitted, narrowed eyes scanning over everything in the room but Allison.

"Please?" she pleaded. "Not one?!" I shrugged.

"I don't know. I guess Matt Heifer's kind of cute. I'd date Danny, but he's gay, so…"

"Come on!" Allison groaned. "I pour out my heart and soul to you and the best you can give me is 'kind of cute'?!"

"Sorry," I apologized with a grin at her dramatics. "I'm not super experienced with guys."

"What about that guy, Derek?" she asked, perking up. "You didn't just think he was cute. You said you thought he was gorgeous." My stomach twisted violently.

"Yeah," I said shakily. "But he's also super sketchy."

"Tall, dark, handsome, and mysterious," Allison countered, smirking and tilting her head. I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah, and also at least like five years older than us."

"Oh, so you're not into older men?" she asked playfully.

"Jailbait," I replied shortly.

"Ugh! You're killing me!" she moaned, causing me to chuckle again.

"It's not my fault there aren't many guys here I think are worth talking to."

"What about Stiles?" she prodded desperately. "You talk to Stiles!" I nearly choked to death on my sudden laughter.

"Stiles?" I repeated, eyebrows flying up towards my hairline. "Seriously?"

"Yes seriously," she defended. "He's like, the only guy I've seen you talk to besides Scott and Jackson, who are off the table."

"Yeah, but he's Stiles," I said with a smile. "Plus, he's completely head over heels for Lydia. I was talking to him the other day, and it's like, he truly and genuinely likes her. Not all this superficial, hormonal shit that you hear from most teenage boys."

"His feelings for Lydia have nothing to do with it," she said, narrowing her eyes and leaning forward. "Unless you find it attractive that he's _not_ just a superficial, hormonal teenage boy."

"Of course I do," I scoffed before I could stop myself. I froze at the victorious look on Allison's face. "I mean," I backpedaled furiously, "it'd be stupid not to appreciate that. It's kind of rare."

"Do you think he's cute?" she demanded.

"What? No!" I denied, the image of his cheekbones with a splotchy blush underneath flooding my mind. His soft brown eyes and distracting eyelashes seemed to stare me down from inside my eyelids as I blinked furiously. "I mean, kind of? I-I don't like his hair!" But Allison was already springing up into a sitting position.

"Oh my God! Sadie, you totally like Stiles!"

"No, Allison!" I groaned.

"No, no, no!" she cut me off, waving her hands. "I see it! No denial!"

"Look, it's nothing to get excited over," I tried to rationalize. "I find him…I'm interested in him, sure. But just because I think he's a good kind of different doesn't mean anything. So don't go imagining something like you and Scott, okay? That's your life, not mine." She took a deep breath to calm herself down, nodding in understanding.

"I think you guys would be really cute together," she gushed after a moment.

"Allison!" I scolded, but was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Come in!" she called. Allison's door swung open to reveal Mrs. Argent standing in the doorway.

"Are we talking about boys?" she asked with a small smile. Allison laughed.

"Sadie likes a guy at school, but she's in denial." I sunk farther down into the desk chair, willing myself to disappear. Mrs. Argent laughed politely at my reluctance.

"Well that's perfectly fine," she said strongly. "You are two talented and strong young women. There are more important things to focus on than men."

"Exactly! Thank you!" I cheered, looking pointedly at my friend and gesturing widely to her mother. Allison rolled her eyes.

"I just wanted to let you girls know that the food is done."

"Okay, Mom," Allison said, scooting to the edge of her bed. "We'll be down in a couple minutes." Mrs. Argent nodded before backing out of the room. Allison and I stood up, with her leading the way to the hallway so we could wash up before dinner.

"I can't believe you like Stiles!" she whispered excitedly.

"Shut up!" I stage whispered back, elbowing her in the ribs gently enough that she still thought it was safe to giggle.

A few minutes later we were all gathered around the dining room table. Mr. Argent sat at one end on my left, Mrs. Argent at the other end with Allison next to me. They waited politely for everyone to be served before beginning my interrogation.

"So, Sadie," Mr. Argent started in. "Allison tells us that you've been living here for a few months now."

"Uh, yeah," I answered, pausing between bites of my pasta. "We moved in the beginning of the summer, so by the time school started I was pretty much settled in."

"And how do you like it here?" Mrs. Argent asked.

"It's been nice," I said, fairly robotically at this point. The number of times I'd been asked these questions must've been reaching the high hundreds. "I'm really enjoying myself."

"Lots of friends?" she pressed.

"Uh, yeah, I guess," I shrugged. "We moved in with one of my mom's old friends, Eleanor Martin, and her daughter Lydia and I became pretty close. She introduced me to a lot of people before school started. And of course, now I'm friends with Allison." We grinned at each other.

"We just want to thank you for taking Allison under your wing," Mr. Argent said, leaning his forearms on the table with a sincere expression. "I'm sure you can imagine how tough it is always being the new girl, and having you around seems to have made her a lot happier and eager to make friends."

"Dad," Allison moaned, sliding farther down in her chair and ducking her head.

"Oh, I don't feel that way at all," I replied instantly. "I mean, that I've taken her under my wing. Sure, I know a few people, but I think more than anything we have a mutual relationship trying to adjust to the area and a new life. Having Allison around as a fellow new girl has made things a lot easier for me too."

"Good answer," Mr. Argent laughed, pointing at me with his fork. Allison tapped my ankle with her foot before gazing at me with a supremely thankful expression. I smiled.

"Although, Allison's much better at being new, I think. More graceful," I continued, causing Allison to laugh. I imagined she was thinking about our very different entrances into English the first day, but her parents didn't need to know how nervous she was. "She says you guys have moved a lot?"

"Yes," Mr. Argent sighed. "Unfortunately that's one of the few drawbacks of my job."

"Chris is a firearm supplier for the police force," his wife added from the other end of the table. I raised my eyes, nodding with genuine interest. It was a job I was vaguely familiar with because of my father. "And what do your parents do?" Allison and I both stiffened. My hand moved to my neck, touching the dog tags for comfort before I spoke.

"Um, well my mom works for some major corporation doing some extremely complicated financing that's way over my head." Mr. Argent chuckled.

"And your father?" Mrs. Argent insisted.

"Mom," Allison whispered in a cautionary tone.

"Um," I swallowed thickly, "my father died the end of last spring actually."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Allison's mother answered, but in an automatic, artificial tone I was extremely familiar with at this point. I merely nodded.

"Not another one of these animal attacks was it?" Mr. Argent's question caught me off guard. I looked up, startled.

"Chris," Mrs. Argent reprimanded, but it seemed more like a warning than a scolding. I watched as they shared an intense look.

"Uh, n-no," I stammered. "No he was killed during an armed robbery actually. He was a responding police officer. T-That's why my mom and I moved to Beacon Hills."

"Oh, I'm…I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…" Mr. Argent tried to apologize, in a voice that was admittedly more sympathetic than his wife's. I nodded.

"No, no, it's fine. I'm pretty used to explaining it at this point." The table fell into silence, and while it wasn't my fault, I still felt a little guilty for killing the mood so quickly.

"Actually, Dad," Allison said suddenly with a bright tone, changing the subject. "I heard that uh, they weren't animal attacks."

"What?" her mother asked immediately.

"Yeah," she nodded, taking another bite of her pasta. "I heard the sheriff arrested someone this morning."

"Where did you hear that?" Mrs. Argent demanded. Allison raised her eyebrows.

"Um, I was talking to my friend Scott. He's friends with the sheriff's son."

"Well that's interesting," Mr. Argent replied in a clear would-be-calm voice. "I'll have to drive by the station after dinner, see if I can get any details."

"That doesn't change the fact that there's a curfew tonight," Allison's mother added. "I still want you to come home right after the game."

"Alright, Mom, I got it," Allison replied, rolling her eyes and sending me an unnecessary apologetic look. We already discussed how she wouldn't be able to attend the outing, meaning Scott and Stiles wouldn't be going. I told her it wasn't a big deal, as I'd already ducked out, and if they really wanted to, Lydia and Jackson would be fine on their own.

The rest of dinner was held in supreme courtesy. I politely answered all of Allison's parents' questions about my old town, my friends here, and my pass times. Regardless, I could still feel the tension in the air. I was sure if it was because they felt bad for bringing up my father, or if it was because of this arrest that had been made, but I remained slightly uncomfortable for the rest of the meal.

When dinner was finally over, I thanked Mrs. Argent graciously for the meal before dashing out to my car to grab some things. Then I ran back up to Allison's room, where she was standing in front of her closet. I shook the paint pens and poster board as I walked into the room, closing the door behind me.

"I thought you said you wanted off poster duty," Allison laughed, holding a shirt up to her torso.

"No," I replied, both to the shirt and her statement, "I said I wanted off poster duty with Lydia. Besides, I figured Scott needed a little support, too." She smiled sweetly turning back to her closet.

Allison ended up turning the music back on, and we continued to chat while Allison attempted to pick out an outfit. I lay on my stomach on the floor. On one side of the poster I'd quickly and neatly written "Go Jackson Go!" in double-lined red and black letters. Jackson had posters from Lydia, and it was really out of courtesy that I was making one. As he loved to remind everyone, Jackson didn't really need luck. Instead, I moved on to someone who did—Scott. I wrote everything in big block letters and colored then in red so they would be clearly visible from the field. I took my sweet ass time, to be honest, trying to make everything really neat and perfect to make up for the fact that Jackson had at least three signs. When I was done, I sat back and admired my work. Allison walked up behind me from where she'd been looking through some pictures from one of her boxes.

"Wow, Sadie, that looks really good." I smiled down at the red and black poster.

"Thanks. I mean, this is still pretty simple, but I thought drawing his face on the poster might be a little overkill." Instead, I'd opted to go for an encouraging "YOU CAN DO IT SCOTT" surrounded by hearts and one or two smiley faces. The largest heart, in the upper left hand corner, was colored red with white letters spelling out "MCCALL #11" inside.

"Well, I think it's perfect," she offered, hugging me. "Thanks for doing this, Sadie. I mean, I know you're not really friends with Scott."

"Hey," I smiled, "I'm gonna be eventually. I mean, you're my friend, and if you guys start dating I'm going to have to get to know him. Besides, he's the only new person on first line. I think he could do with a little good luck." Allison looked like she was going to reply, but she was cut off by a loud squealing and a thump from outside. Both out heads snapped to the window before we exchanged a wild, wide-eyed look. Allison sprinted for the door, and I tore after her. "Dad?!" she yelled as we pounded down the stairs. We burst out the front door, out into the driveway. "Dad?" she repeated. I ran up next to her to see Mr. Argent crouching in front of his car, a body at his feet. The figure groaned and rolled over, and I recognized the floppy brown hair of Scott McCall. "Dad!" Allison screeched as she simultaneously realized what was happening. "What the hell are you doing?!" She sprinted over to Scott, kneeling down on his opposite side. I stood at his feet, watching in concern.

"H-He came out of nowhere, Allison!" her father stammered, clearly shaken.

"Are you trying to kill him?!" she demanded in a panic. Scott looked frantically back and forth between the two, and I could see the sweat glistening on his face from where I stood.

"No, no, of course not," Mr. Argent assured her. "He just—He just ran out into the driveway."

"I-I-I'm sorry," Scott groaned from the ground, wincing as he spoke. "It's my fault, I'm sorry."

"Are you okay?" she asked softly, leaning over him.

"Yeah," he said, looking up at her with a smile. Even after being hit by a car the boy seemed to get lost in her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm fine. I swear." Allison gently brushed his hair out of his face. Scott glanced at her father. "S-Sorry I hit your car." Allison's father shook his head, unable to actually say "it's alright" or "as long as you're okay." Scott looked back at Allison. "I was just coming to say hi."

I watched as Mr. Argent looked suspiciously between the two lovebirds, his daughter still casually stroking Scott's head. I actually had to cover my mouth with my hand to hold back a giggle. I probably shouldn't have been laughing, but Scott seemed to be fine, and I found it disgustingly humorous that he and Allison were so caught up with each other after he was hit by her father's car. I must have let out some sort of noise, because Allison's father looked back at me. I raised my eyebrows innocently, but he'd snapped out of his daze.

"You sure you're okay?" Mr. Argent asked, helping Scott to his feet.

"Yeah, yeah, completely," he assured him, groaning as he stood up and looked around, noticing me for the first time. "H-hey, Sadie."

"Yeah, hi Scott," I replied with a smirk, completely unable to keep the laugh out of my voice. I slapped a hand over my mouth, but Scott just grinned sheepishly, looking back at Allison.

"I-I should go. I've got a lacrosse game to get to." Allison nodded, pulling her hand away from his forehead. "You're still coming, right?"

"Of course I'm coming," she assured him with a giggle, now standing dangerously close to him. I could practically feel Mr. Argent bristling next to me as his only daughter flirted with the poor boy in front of him. I dropped my hand, keeping my lips pursed tightly.

"We all are," Mr. Argent said suddenly, breaking the couple from their loving gaze. Scott glanced at us, and I nodded with a Cheshire cat smile, holding my breath so I wouldn't squeak with laughter. Allison glared daggers at her father as he smiled, patting a suddenly very nervous Scott on the shoulder.

"G-Great," he said, looking between the three of us. "Well, well, I guess I'll see you guys at the game!"

"Yup!" Mr. Argent replied in a scarily bright tone.

"Yeah," Allison grumbled, still glaring at her father. "I'll see you there, Scott." He nodded, backing away slowly.

"Bye Scott!" I said with a smile. "Good luck!"

"T-Thanks," he replied, before jogging off the property and down the street. I glanced around confused. He'd walked…?

This interesting fact seemed to escape Allison and her father, who were now locked in a staring contest.

"Well," he said, clapping his hands. "Why don't you girls grab your things and we can head over to the school. It's been a while since I've seen a game of lacrosse."

"I'll bet," Allison grumbled, storming into the house. I ducked my head, trying to calm myself down so Allison wouldn't be mad at me for laughing. She slammed her bedroom door shut before collapsing onto the bed. She groaned into a pillow. "Argh! What am I gonna do?! I can't flirt with Scott with my dad breathing down my neck!"

"I don't know," I said easily. "You seemed to do a pretty good job just now." She glared.

"You know what I mean," she snapped. I rolled my eyes.

"Oh come on, do I have to think of everything? I don't have any more experience with boys than you do! In fact, I probably have less."

"Please?!" Allison pouted. "You at least have a clear head around him." I sighed, picking up the poster and fiddling with the corners.

"Okay," I broke. "Fine. I'll think of something." Allison beamed, springing off the bed.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she squealed, hugging me and jumping up and down. I laughed, shrugging her off.

"Now go get bundled up! It's gonna be cold, so coat and a cute hat!" Allison pulled on a purple hat and a matching set of fingerless gloves before grabbing a pretty tan coat. I nodded in approval, tugging my black beanie onto my head and putting on my black pea coat that just showed off the end of my black skirt and the chest of my fuchsia turtleneck. "Ready?" I asked. She refreshed her lipgloss before nodding unsteadily. "Don't' worry, Scott's gonna be fine. He's got us." I shook the sign as proof before leading the way downstairs. We quickly said goodbye to Allison's mom, and I thanked her for having me over for the delicious dinner. When she waved us off, telling us to have fun at the game, we trotted outside to the cars. I threw my purse in the back of the van, gently placing the poster in the back seat as Mr. Argent followed us out of the house.

"Uh, Allison, why don't you ride with me?" Allison nearly stamped her foot in mounting frustration.

"Dad!"

"No, I'm sure Sadie understands," he said calmly, walking over as he buttoned his coat. "The way a lot of kids drive these days, I just want to make sure that my daughter's safe. I'm not really comfortable letting her be your passenger when we've only just met." As annoying as overprotectiveness was, I nodded in understanding.

"That's okay," I agreed. "Actually, why don't you guys ride together, and you can tail me to the high school? I'll take my Argent-approved road test now."

"Sadie, you really don't have to," Allison started, but I shook my head.

"I kinda do. It's gonna be kinda hard to hang out anywhere if I can't drive you. Go on, I'll meet you at the game." Reluctantly, Allison nodded and followed her father to their car. I shook my head, climbing into the driver's seat of the van. I knew that what Mr. Argent had just said was bullshit. Scott had come over last weekend and whisked Allison off on a date without ever even seeing her parents. I knew that the real thing He was worried about was me taking Allison somewhere she could meet up with Scott without his supervision. He wanted his daughter by his side at all times, and I wasn't planning on getting in the middle of that. I did however need to get around it, as I'd promised Allison I'd try and get her and Scott alone before we left the game. That was going to be a bit of a puzzle.

I drove carefully as always on my way to the high school. I paused a little longer at stop signs and put my directional lights on a tad earlier, but besides that I drove normally. Just to show off, when we got to the school I executed a perfect parallel park, leaving the last actual parking space for Mr. Argent. I grinned as I climbed out of the van, grabbing my belongings from the back.

"So?" I asked, locking the car behind me. "How'd I do?"

"Beautifully," Mr. Argent chuckled as the pair walked over to me.

"Well, thank you," I replied, smiling proudly. Allison rolled her eyes. "I've actually got to go find Lydia. Can you save me a seat?"

"Yeah, sure," she agreed. "We're gonna go grab snacks." I waved as Allison and her father walked towards the concessions table, and I went to meet Lydia by the edge of the school.

She was waiting impatiently, her hair looking impressively ginger with her blue pea coat and a pair of furry earmuffs on her head. Her eyes darted back and forth, struggling with the sign she had tucked under her arm as she bounced in the cold. I skipped over to her with a smile, brandishing the Jackson side of my sign at her as I approached. Thankfully, she didn't look too upset by my tardiness.

"Cute," she complimented, looking around. "Where's Allison?"

"Funny story about that," I started as we walked towards the field. "So Scott swings by to say hi before the game and her dad hits him with his car." Lydia gasped.

"Is he still playing?" she asked, more in anger than concern. She really didn't want to lose this game.

"Yeah, he's fine," I assured her. "But the poor kid couldn't turn it off in front of Allison's dad, so Mr. Argent decided he was coming to the game. He and Allison are grabbing seats now." Lydia scoffed, only slightly less amused than I was at the display of puppy love. "That also means no going out with us after the game. No Allison means no Scott, which means just you and Jackson when you go out with everyone." Lydia practically growled.

"Whatever. Let's focus on winning this first. Hold this." She shoved the sign into my chest and I fumbled as she stalked away, striding right up to Jackson, who was rolling his shoulder on the bench.

"Hey Jackson," I greeted, taking my place at Lydia's side. "How ya feeling?"

"Fine," he said shortly with a glare. I sighed, realizing that the cold walls were back up now that we were all in public. Jackson naturally had to be the big man when he was in front of his teammates.

"Just go out there and win like you always do," Lydia instructed in a voice that managed to seem soothing and deadly at the same time. "You'll be fine." She grabbed his jaw kissing him quickly before she walked away.

"Good luck," I added. Jackson rolled his eyes with a cocky smirk.

"I don't need luck." I glared at the answer I so easily predicted.

"Whatever, Macho Man." I patted his bad shoulder, relishing his look of annoyance as I turned away. I looked up as Lydia marched over to my two favorite weirdoes, completely ignoring Stiles as she grabbed Scott by the jersey. Stiles gaped, backing away in disbelief and I walked over to him.

"Hey," I greeted, fixing the posters so they were tucked securely under my arm.

"Yeah," he responded morosely. "Hey, Sadie." I glanced sideways at him as he stared longingly at Scott and Lydia.

"You know she's just threatening him, right? Like, probably vicious death threats?"

"Vicious death threats are better than being ignored entirely." I paused, frowning in thought.

"Okay. Stiles, if you don't win this game, I'm gonna castrate you, shove your balls down your throat and choke you to death." Stiles jumped, turning to stare at me with wide, horrified eyes. I gave him a dazzling smile in return. "Just kidding. Good luck." I tapped his cheek forcefully before turning to Scott, who was walking over to us. "Scott," I addressed, resting my free hand on his shoulder as Stiles continued to splutter behind me. "Just take a deep breath. We've got faith in you. You're gonna do just fine."

"Thanks, Sadie," he said, taking a deep breath.

"Anytime. Good luck!" I vaguely heard Scott ask Stiles if he was alright as I brushed past him. I allowed myself a self-satisfied smile before continuing my strut away. I climbed gracefully as I could up the bleachers, plopping into the seat between Allison and Lydia and resting the posters in front of me. There was a quick introduction between Lydia and Mr. Argent, and then a review of what number everyone was on the team. Jackson was number thirty-seven, and Scott number eleven. Allison had asked me what number Stiles was, and I promptly answered twenty-four, making her smirk. I had to cover my tracks by rolling my eyes and reminding her that Stilinski never played anyway, so she didn't need to worry about it. Before she could give me a witty response, I was saved by the whistle, and we all turned to the field to watch as both teams ran out. We cheered as Jackson made his way to the center, Lydia screaming his name while Allison and I whooped along. I could see Mike across the field, Danny in goal, and Scott where his back was turned to us, crouching in the ready position before the whistle blew. When it did, the game began.

Jackson immediately got the ball, to no one's surprise, and began to run down the field. I saw Scott waving his lacrosse stick, clearly open and ready, but the captain barreled on. It got passed once, twice, three times before Peters missed it. The ball landed on the grass and I cheered as Scott bolted toward it. But suddenly he was rammed to the ground, not by an opposing player clad in white, but by a sickeningly familiar 37.

"Ah, really, Jackson?" I groaned under my breath, but I was quickly distracted from my anger when he sent the ball flying into the net. Lydia and I both jumped to our feet, screaming wildly. The energy in the air was contagious. Allison stood up next to me, also clapping vigorously in celebration of the first goal of the game. I could see Coach Finstock jumping around the sideline as Jackson received a few high fives. Lydia spun to me with a smile and gripped my arm.

"Time to break out the posters!" she squealed above the noise. I nodded reaching down and grabbing the sign Lydia had made, choosing to show off the side that read "WE LUV U JACKSON." Allison and Lydia each held up one bottom corner while I supported the top middle, since I was tallest. Our renewed, high-pitched cheers were easily audible over the dying applause, and we all jumped up and down smiling when Lydia's boyfriend finally caught sight of the sign and nodded to us. Unfortunately, I also saw the forlorn look on Stiles's face as he glanced back at us from the bench. I tried to shrug it off. Jackson was the one who made the shot. Okay, he was an asshole for knocking Scott over, but this was Jackson. He couldn't comprehend letting someone else have the glory of making the first shot of the school year. Hopefully now that the team was riled up, he'd be able to get over himself.

Unfortunately, I couldn't have been more wrong. The game continued, and as it went on we began cheering less and less. Our team scored a few more goals, and we jumped and screamed every time they did, shaking Lydia's sign for Jackson each time. But eventually, the opposing team outstripped us. We were tied, one behind, and then two behind and extremely forlorn. It also seemed to be getting colder, but that might have been a side effect of my disappointment or not standing up to cheer as often. When the game had dragged into the fourth quarter, Mr. Argent spoke up.

"Which one is Scott again?"

"Number eleven," I informed him.

"Otherwise known as the only one who hasn't caught a single ball this entire game," Lydia added snootily.

"Through no fault of his own," I growled. Lydia raised an eyebrow.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she asked, affronted.

"Come on, Lydia, you're not blind," I reasoned, glaring at her. "Scott's been open the whole game. The only reason he hasn't scored is because no one will pass to him, which is the reason we're losing."

"We're _losing_ because the other team keeps scoring. Danny's probably distracted," she dismissed.

"Yeah? Well if Jackson wasn't so goddamn immature, he'd let the other players pass to McCall and we could probably catch up." Of course, I didn't have any proof that Jackson was keeping his teammates from passing to Scott, but it seemed the only reasonable explanation. It was obvious Scott was working hard to stay open, but every Beacon Hills player was ignoring him. Several times, the players ended up being rammed because they wouldn't pass the ball to Scott, and as a result the other team went on offense and scored another point. The only thing that would keep them in a routine that had us losing would be Jackson's orders as captain.

"I just hope he's okay," Allison muttered from my left.

"I hope we're okay," Lydia said with determination, staring down at the field. I glanced at the waning time on the scoreboard. Less than two minutes left and we were still two points behind. The spectators on the Beacon Hills bleachers were eerily quiet, resigned to lose the first game of the season. The players were taking their places on the field. I saw Jackson storming to the center, Scott hunched over and from the looks of it breathing heavily, Stiles a bouncing ball of nerves and tension on the bench. "We need to win this," Lydia continued, breaking into my thoughts and reaching for her sign once more.

"No." Lydia stared at me with wide eyes.

"Excuse me?"

"Time for my sign," I said shortly. I stood up sharply, hoisting the poster board over my head, McCall side facing the field. Even though she was unaware that my sign was for Scott, Lydia still stood up with a tad of reluctance, but held up her corner dutifully. Allison rose by my side, grabbing hold of the board tightly and worry etched all over her face. "Wooh! Come on Beacon!" I shouted into the silence. A few people joined in, clapping encouragingly. I caught Stiles's eye as he glanced back. He did a double take at the sign, a smile momentarily spreading over his nervous face. I winked, turning back to the field. "Come on, Scott," I muttered under my breath, trying to make sure Lydia couldn't hear me. But right on cue, Scott's helmet turned toward us. I bounced a little where I stood, making my encouraging smile as large as I could so he might see it from the field. I saw his helmet bob slightly before he dropped his head again, but I couldn't tell if it was a nod of acknowledgement or an effect of his heavy breathing. I didn't really have time to think about it though, because then the referee's whistle blew, and everyone was running off. I dropped the sign in front of me, screaming along with the rest of the crowd.

Jackson hadn't been able to get the ball, though technically, neither had the player from the other team. He accidentally sent it flying, up, up, and up. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a red blur launch itself into the air, snatching the ball up and hitting the ground running. I practically squealed when I realized the blur was McCall. I smacked Allison violently on the arm.

"Oh my God, he got it! Go, Scott! Run, wooh!" And Scott did just that, expertly. He weaved in and out of the white clad players, thrilling the audience to the point of shouts every time it looked like he was about to fall over from the force he was putting into the mad dash. Seconds later, he was already flinging the ball into the goal. The buzzer went of, and I threw my arms into the air. "Wooh!" I screeched, jumping up and jostling Lydia in my excitement. I turned to the sour girl, screaming over the noise. "Come on, Lydia!" I coaxed. "A point is a point! You wanted them to win, right?" Lydia pursed her lips before grudgingly standing to clap with the rest of us. Even she had to admit it'd been an amazing shot. Jackson had made his fair share of goals in the game, and it was time to let Scott shine so that we could win it.

I giggled when I saw Stiles freaking out on the sidelines. He was jumping around like a maniac, tailing the coach in his excitement and echoing his orders in hyperactive yelps. "Pass to McCall! Yeah! Pass to McCall!"

The players reset barely a minute later, but when the whistle blew, the opposing team immediately snatched it up. We groaned along with the rest of the crowd, but paused when the gangly player who had the ball stopped running. He was frozen in front of Scott, and then without any explanation, he simply tossed him the ball. A confused but elated cheer went up, and I merely stared with wide eyes as he continued to weave back and forth between his opponents. When he reached the end of the field, he lobbed the ball towards the goal so fast, I didn't even realize we'd scored until the crowd went crazy. I did a double take, gaping as the goalie inspected his lacrosse stick, which now had a gaping hole in the strings. I absent-mindedly clapped my hands.

"I didn't even know that was physically possible," I muttered, staring at the goalie's frayed strings in disbelief as the two coaches, the referee and Stiles fought over the call.

"Who cares about his faulty stick?!" Lydia said, now completely past her hesitancy about Scott scoring goals. "We're tied!" I glanced at the clock, clasping a nervous hand over my mouth. Less than forty seconds left. At the rate Scott was scoring, it was suddenly completely, nerve wracking-ly plausible that we could win the game.

Jackson was in the middle of the field again. I could see Scott's chest heaving from where I sat, but I could only hope that it was the adrenaline and nothing else. The whistle blew, and almost immediately Scott had snatched up the ball. This time, players seemed to be flying out of his way, leaving him standing alone and panting in the middle of a clearing. He was frozen, but the time was ticking.

"You can do it, Scott," I heard Allison muttering beside me. I nodded, clasping my hands tightly in front of my face.

"Come on, come on, Scott," I begged into my hands. "You're almost there, just shoot! You can do it. Come on Scott!"

With barely seconds left on the clock, and a player running at him from either side, Scott swung his lacrosse stick. I held my breath, but the little, troublesome white ball flew seamlessly into the goal and the whistle blew.

The roar was deafening. Every single spectator sprang from their seats, beginning to make their way onto the field. Lydia sprinted ahead of us all, using her short stature and sharp elbows to push through the crowd to her boyfriend. But from our vantage point on the bleachers, I could see as Scott ripped off his glove before sprinting off towards the school. I grabbed Allison's arm before she could wander to far, thinking fast and clutching my stomach with the other hand.

"That was amazing!" I gushed to her and her father. "But I for one am super glad it's over, because I really need to go to the bathroom. Come on, Allison!"

"Wh-? Sure," she agreed, a tad confused and disappointed. Before her father could say a word, I towed her away, forcing her to sprint towards the school with me. "Sadie! Sadie wait up!" she called and I ran in the lead. "Where are we going?!"

"You wanted me to get you alone time together? This is your alone time together," I panted, pushing open the back door to the school. I listened carefully for a moment before I heard movement. "Locker room," I confirmed, walking Allison over to the door. "He should be the only one in there."

"The locker room?" she repeated nervously, eying the door. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"No," I replied easily, fixing the hat on her head and tugging the strands of her hair into reasonable order. "But I am sure that your dad could have followed us and if you don't get in that locker room right now there's a chance your dad will drag you away before you even get to congratulate him."

"You're right," she said, shaking her head and trying to collect her thoughts. "Of course you're right. You're the best. Have I mentioned that today?"

"Twice, I think, but keep 'em coming." I held onto her shoulders, patting them once. "Go get him, sweetheart." Allison nodded then, plastering a smile on her face, walked into the boys' locker room. I leaned against the opposite wall, taking a deep breath before sliding down to the floor.

Well, it had certainly been an eventful game. Jackson was bound to be furious that he hadn't scored the winning shot, but at least we won. I thought back to my Scott McCall poster lying in the bleachers and cringed. I probably should have taken those with me. Lydia probably wouldn't be too upset that I'd made it, in retrospect, as Scott had been the reason we won the game, but I hoped Jackson never got a chance to see it. He already annoyed me enough when he didn't have a reason to be mad at me.

Suddenly, the school doors to my left flew open. I jumped, letting out a frightened squeal. Stiles squealed back at me before we both calmed on sight of the other.

"Jesus, Stiles," I sighed, resting a hand on my chest. "You scared the shit outta me."

"Sorry," he apologized, though it came out too rushed to be sincere. He looked down the hallway, eyes darting around.

"So congratulations," I said, pushing off the wall so I could return to a standing position.

"What? Oh! Yes! Yeah, uh thanks. You know, not that I did anything." I shrugged.

"Yeah, well… Congrats just the same, I guess." Stiles nodded, looking around before speaking up again.

"Hey, Sadie," he started, reaching his arm behind his head to rub at his neck. "Thanks for making that sign for Scott. I know it might not seem like much but, it was one of the only things that helped him keep his head during the game, and that's probably the most important thing that happened all day."

"More important than winning the first game of the season?" I teased, but Stiles deadpanned.

"Yeah," he said, completely serious. I was a little taken aback.

"Oh, well uh… Yeah, anytime. I figured if anyone on the team could use a little extra good luck, it was Scott."

"You have no idea," Stiles replied with a smirk. "Actually, have you—have you seen him?"

"Should be in there," I answered, leaning on the wall and pointing to the door to the locker room. "With Allison."

"Oh great," Stiles groaned, letting his body sag in such over-exaggerated disappointment and disgust that I laughed. "No, okay thanks. Great. Super. Awesomeness. I guess I will—I will see you Monday, Sadie."

"Whatever," I giggled. "Later, Stilinski." Stiles gave me a lopsided smile as he leaned his back on the door.

"Later, Bennet." He pushed the door open and ducked inside.

I let out an audible sigh, letting my head rest against the wall as I pulled out my phone to check the time. A few seconds later, Allison stepped out of the boys' locker room. I took one look at her happy face before I pounced, smirk coming on full force. "So?!" I demanded. "What happened?!"

"I took your advice," she said quietly, trying to let her hair fall in front of her face so I couldn't see the raging blush or her thousand-watt smile.

"Which bit?" I asked.

"The bit…where I told him I was waiting for him to make a move."

"And?" I pressed with baited breath. Allison looked up, biting her lip.

"He kissed me," she sighed dreamily. I let out a disgustingly girly shriek, linking her arm with mine.

"Okay, I have to get you back to your dad, so walk and talk. I wanna hear all about this kiss of yours. No skipping details!"

"Okay, okay," she said, falling into stride next to me. "But Sadie?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you." I grinned at her cutesy, love-drunk smile, proud that I had done something to help put that look on her face.

"You're welcome, Allison."

* * *

**A/N: Hello there! See? Longer, I promised. So this one was mostly a focus on Sadie's relationship with Allison, but I tried to throw in a few cute moments for you. I promise, lots of the Stiles next time haha. And last chapter made the story hit it's top view rate! Whee! Unfortunately, I also got less reviews, but I suppose beggars can't be choosers. But that's not going to stop me from begging you to tell me what you think, your theories or your favorite lines. Thank you so, so much!**


	7. Chapter 7

The raw energy from winning the first lacrosse game lasted throughout all of the next week. So did Allison's excitement over her first kiss with Scott. I'd received a full report on what had happened inside the locker room: Allison's horror flick moment in the dark, Scott's apology for his weird-ass behavior, her encouragement, and their extremely enjoyable kisses. Then of course, Stiles had walked in and made everything a little awkward, but she still hadn't stopped talking about it. We talked about Scott when I invited her over to my house to study for chemistry. We talked about Scott when we went out to celebrate passing the test. And of course, we talked about Scott all other times in between. I knew Allison was trying to hold up other conversations for my sake, but she was so wrapped up in the boy that it seemed most of the time she could think of nothing else. I was caught somewhere between playful amusement and pulling my hair out of my scalp in chunks in annoyance. The only time I was guaranteed to be with Allison and have her not talk about Scott was when we were _with_ Scott. Mostly, that time was used to help cultivate my growing friendship with Stiles, as we both tried to break up the adorable couple or politely ignore them.

Between schoolwork and the impressive amount of effort I was spending on maintaining my friendships, I was exhausted and more than ready to kick back and hang out with my mom for a nice Saturday. She didn't technically have to work on the weekends, and Lydia and her mother were both out as well, which meant Mom and I had the house to ourselves to kick back and relax with a mother-daughter movie marathon. And that's what I'd planned on doing. Until I received a string of texts from Allison.

"_Hey Sadie! What's up?"_

_"Hey, do you have plans today?"_

_"Sadie, I kind of need to you to come over."_

I raised my eyebrows at the messages, texting her back.

_"I'm supposed to hang out with my mom today, but I guess I can come. Is everything okay?"_

I grudgingly got off the couch and went to my mom's office, sticking my head inside.

"Hey Mom?" I asked tentatively.

"Hm?" She looked up at me over her glasses from her desk, where she was finishing off some reports.

"I just got some texts from Allison asking me to go over to her house."

"Is everything okay?" she asked with concern. She'd instantly taken to Allison's polite and shy demeanor when she'd come over.

"I'm not sure," I replied. "I'm waiting to hear back from her, but… I'm really sorry, but do you think you could drop me off at her house?" My mother sighed.

"Yeah, that's fine. I should probably finish these reports anyway, but this does _not _mean you get out of movie watching!"

"Wouldn't dream of it," I laughed. "Thanks, Mommy." I tapped the doorframe and jogged up to my room. Halfway up the stairs, my phone went off with Allison's reply.

_"Yeah, sorry. Didn't mean to scare you. Dress cute."_

Instead of replying with some snarky reply about how I always looked cute, I tossed the phone onto my bed and started to get changed. I wasn't sure what Allison was so urgently calling me for that required good fashion sense, but I thought I'd give it a shot anyway. I decided on a yellow camisole tucked in a pair of high-waisted denim shorts. I also had on black stockings, ankle boots, and a blazer-cut sweatshirt. Once I'd done my makeup and fastened my dog tags around my neck, I trotted back downstairs to meet up with my mom.

She dropped me off at Allison's house a few minutes later, leaving me with a kiss on the cheek and an order to text her when Allison told me what was up. I only had to wait a few seconds after I'd knocked for the door to swing up. Rather than the panicked friend I'd been expecting, I was suddenly face to face with Mrs. Argent.

"Sadie! You look lovely," she greeted, stepping aside to let me into the house.

"Hi, Mrs. Argent. And thank you!"

"Allison's up in her room," she informed me. I smiled politely before dashing up the stairs and right up to her door. I knocked furiously, and a moment later it flung open.

"Oh thank God," Allison sighed in relief, snatching my wrist and dragging me into the room.

"Allison, what the hell is going on?" I asked, falling on the end of her bed from the momentum. I groaned, shifting to pull out several hangers from underneath me. I looked around to see Allison had thrown several articles of clothing all over the room. My eyebrows rose higher.

"I uh, need your help. With an outfit." Deciding that there was no immediate danger, I sighed and stood up, brushing myself off.

"Outfit for what?" I asked, joining her at the closet.

"Scott," she replied simply. I rounded on her with a glare.

"Okay, I get that you really like this kid Allison, but if you brought me over here and had me cancel my plans just so I could help you with your outfit-!"

"No! No, of course not," she denied. "I needed a favor, I just need help with the outfit first. Please?" As I stared at her, I realized that her relationship with Scott would most likely be the death of me. She's already been around him so long that she was adopting his puppy eyes. My resolve crumpled, and I grunted wordlessly, turning to the closet. Allison bounced next to me as I ripped through her clothing. Finally, I pulled out a casual green dress and a denim jacket.

"Here," I huffed. "With leggings, ballet flats and one of your scarves."

"Thank you!" she sang, gently prying the hangers from my hands.

"Please don't mention it," I replied, still grumpy. "Now would you like to tell me what I'm doing here?"

"Well," she started, beginning to return the discarded clothes to her closet so that she didn't have to meet my eye. "Scott asked me to go out with him today."

"Yeah, I know Allison. You told me," I snapped. "Actually you probably told me he asked you out like, eight times."

"I know," she moaned, her face scrunching up in discomfort. "But I… I kind of panicked when I told my parents. It's just, you know, ever since the game they've been super over protective. Actually, not the game, since before the game when Scott showed up at my house. And I don't know what it is, cause I mean they let me go to your party the first week of school and they didn't even care that I didn't invite Scott inside. But ever since my dad met him he's been kind of controlling, and mom too and with the curfew and everything I didn't want them to say no and I totally thought they were gonna say no, even my mom-!"

"Allison!" I shouted, cutting off her increasingly rapid rambling. "What did you do?" She shut the closet door and turned to look at me.

"I told them that Scott and I were going out for lunch, but that you were coming with us."

"Allison!" I groaned, letting my head fall back.

"I know! I know, I'm sorry, I panicked!"

"You know how I feel about being a third wheel!"

"I know!" she repeated. "And I already talked to Scott. I explained the whole thing to him, about how sorry I was that it wasn't just gonna be us, and then I had to bring you along because I freaked out in front of my parents. So he's bringing Stiles." I sighed, still supremely angry but at least slightly placated that I wouldn't be totally alone.

"Fine," I growled, turning my back on her so I could sit in her desk chair once more.

"Ugh! You're the best, Sadie!" Allison reminded me. "I'm sorry again, and I completely owe you."

"Oh yeah, you owe me big time," I agreed, sliding my phone out of my purse as she stepped out the door to go change in the bathroom. A second later, her head popped back in.

"Unless you wanna say I did you a favor and this is a double date," she suggested with a wink. I glared lethally at her.

"Don't. Push it." She winced.

"Right. Running." She closed the door and sprinted off to the bathroom. Reluctantly, I opened a new message to my mother.

_"Apparently I'm going out to lunch with Allison, Scott and Stiles."_

When she replied a few minutes later, it was with a laughable response I really should have seen coming.

_"A doubl date?!1!?"_

I rolled my eyes at the typos she'd made in her haste to send the message. For someone who worked with computers for a living, she was never really good with texting or using her phone.

_"No Mom, it's not a double date. Stiles and I are only going to cover up the fact that Allison and Scott want to go on a date at all. I'll talk to you later. Love you!"_

Her rapid reply alerted me to the fact that she hadn't even put her phone down, waiting eagerly for my response.

_"Fine. Love you too. GOOD LUCK!"_

I heaved a sigh as I dropped my phone back into my bag and collapsed back onto the bed. I remained frozen there until Allison returned from the bathroom. She giggled a little when she saw my awkward position, but continued about her business in the room, putting clothes back and putting on make up.

"Allison?" I asked suddenly.

"Uh-huh?"

"You didn't…tell Scott that joke about this being a double date, right?" Allison put down the eyeliner she was holding, turning around to look at me with a slightly disbelieving expression.

"No!" she exclaimed earnestly. "Sadie, of course not. I'm…I'm just teasing you. I'll try to stop making such a big deal out of it."

"Promise?" I asked, raising my head with a little difficulty. Allison smiled.

"Promise." We both giggled, but before we could say anything else, the sound of a car pulling into the driveway drifted through the open window. Allison jumped up, running over and waving out with a grin. "Come on, they're here." I groaned, dropping my head back onto the pillows. "Up!" she ordered with a laugh, grabbing my wrist and physically tugging me out of the bed. Finally I gave up and followed her down the stairs. "Bye, Mom!" she called over her shoulder, and I echoed her with, "Bye, Mrs. Argent!"

"Alright, be safe! Have fun!" she called back, but Allison and I were already halfway out the door.

Waiting for us in the driveway was Stiles's slightly banged up Jeep. While it wasn't in the best condition, it was obvious he took good care of it. The black hood and doors weren't dingy, and the faded blue on the rest of the car was even and shining. Still, I rolled my eyes as we approached, Scott hopping out of the passenger seat so that Allison and I could climb into the back.

"Hey, Scott," she said, giving the boy a quick peck before accepting his waiting hand to help her into the car.

"Great," I grumbled as she climbed. "The Stalker-mobile."

"Hi, Stiles," Allison laughed, passing his shocked face as she settled in the back.

"Hey!" he barked, brandishing a finger as I climbed in. "Respect the Jeep, okay? I don't have to drive you anywhere."

"Actually, Stiles, you kind of do," Scott chuckled from somewhere behind me. I groaned as I tumbled into the back, desperate to not get stuck half-over the seat. I managed to hit my head on something, crouching uncomfortably so there was room for Allison. I held onto the driver's headrest for balance.

"God, there is like no room in here," I complained. "Next group outing, we take the minivan." Stiles let out a derisive laugh.

"Oh, so it's cool that you drive your mom's minivan, but you can have a fit over the car that I actually own?"

"Actually, yeah. Exactly," I replied in a sickly sweet voice.

"Alright, kids," Scott interrupted, attempting not to laugh. "That's enough." I rolled my eyes with a smirk. Allison leaned forward, wrapping her arms around Scott's shoulders from behind.

"So, where are we going?" Scott turned to smile at her shyly.

"You'll see." He turned to look expectantly at Stiles.

"Right," the twitchy boy said loudly. "Yes, my cue. Sorry." After that, the Jeep pulled back out of the driveway, and we hit the road.

Scott's plan hadn't really been all that elaborate. His mysterious "you'll see" winded up just being a chain café on the end of town that Allison and I hadn't been to before. As soon as the car was in park, I was already beginning to climb over the seat, batting at Scott's shoulder so I could get out. He laughed but obliged, and I poured myself out of the car, gripping the edge of the Jeep as Scott gracefully helped Allison out.

"That sucked," I groaned, wincing as I tried to straighten my legs. "It's like everything from the knees down is asleep."

"Don't be such a baby," Stiles teased, rolling his eyes as he locked the car. I replied with the most mature, dignified response I could think of.

"Don't be such a baby!" I mocked in a high, baby voice. Stiles shook his head with a grin.

"You gonna be able to walk, or are you so crippled I have to roll you in?"

"Shut up, Stilinski," I laughed, swatting at his shoulder as we led the way to the building.

"Hey, I'm just saying, if you're convincingly disabled I might be able to move to a handicapped spot."

We all walked up to the café, Scott running ahead so he could hold to door open. I smirked. It was supposed to be his date though, so I guess he felt like he still had to try and be chivalrous. After ordering our food and paying at the counter, Scott covering both his and Allison's meals, Allison took his hand.

"Um, Scott and I will go find a table. You guys wait for the food?"

"Yeah, sure. Scram, you two," I agreed, still attempting to neatly organize my change in my wallet. "Sorry about what I said about the Jeep," I apologized to Stiles, still looking down at my purse.

"Hm? Oh, no, don't worry about it. I know you were joking."

"Honestly, I think the Jeep's pretty kickass," I admitted, hoisting my bag back up onto my shoulder. Stiles beamed proudly.

"Yes! Thank you! I mean I know she's kind of crap, but an awesome crap." I chuckled, nodding in agreement as I leaned my arms on the counter.

"Yeah, just not that awesome for groups of three plus." Stiles sighed, leaning his back against the counter next to me.

"Yeah, okay, I'll give you that," he agreed, tossing his head to the side. "How about this? Next time round, you can drive."

"Sure," I snorted. "Thanks for the offer, but I'd prefer not to chaperone Allison and Scott's dates too often."

"No!" Stiles amended, eyes wide. "Right. That is not something I want to do."

"I mean I love Allison," I started, running my fingers through my hair. "But sometimes I feel like all we're ever talking about is Scott."

"I'd say I'm sorry for your suffering," Stiles chuckled, "but I'm kinda too happy it's not just me."

"Absolutely not." We quickly thanked the woman behind the counter for our food. I laughed when I saw Stiles's tray, filled to the brim with more food than I might be able to eat in a day.

"Hey," he said defensively. "I'm a growing teenage boy."

"I-I didn't say anything," I smirked. He rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, keep laughing." He picked up his tray, struggling for a moment as he tried to carry both Scott's and his own overflowing one.

"Oh my God, just give it to me," I groaned. I grabbed my own tray in my left hand, balanced Allison's on my forearm above it, and snatched Scott's from the counter with my right hand. Stiles looked on with awe as I easily walked away.

"You're uh—you're really good at that," he offered, tripping after me with his own food.

"Eh," I brushed off. "Just practice from fooling around with my mom. She used to be a waitress." We rounded the corner to see Allison and Scott at a booth in the corner. They were both leaning over the table intimately, holding hands and giggling as they stared at each other. I repressed a gag.

"Should we, uh…let 'em be?" Stiles asked tentatively.

"Nope," I replied brightly.

"Uh, no?"

"Nope," I repeated. "Today was supposed to be a day of relaxation. Kick back, pajamas all day, and hanging out with my mom. But I had to cancel, cause Allison and Scott needed us to be their date-training-wheels. You know what good training wheels do, Stiles?"

"Um, they, uh," he stammered, clearly thrown by the unexpected metaphor. "They help the big wheels learn to uh, balance on their own?"

"They stay screwed to the bike," I said, my tone borderline sadistic. Then I quickly glided over to the booth, slamming Scott's tray on the table and grinning evilly as Scott and Allison jumped apart. "Hey guys!" I sang, as Stiles snickered behind me. "So! A meal for Scott, a meal for Allison, a meal for me, and an entire grocery store for Stiles."

"Ha ha," Stiles laughed sarcastically as he sat.

"God, Sadie," Allison sighed, hand on her still heaving chest. "You um…scared us…"

"Yeah," I replied with a wink, sliding into my seat next to her. "Just a reminder that we're here, so no making out. As you were." Allison shoved me a little while Scott smiled sheepishly.

We talked collectively for a few minutes about anything and everything. We talked about school, the lives Allison and I had left behind in San Francisco and Menlo Park respectively, and what music we liked. I actually felt completely at ease, despite the fact I had wanted to stay at home. I was confident that I could be good friends with not only Allison, but Scott and Stiles as well. The couple had drifted off a few times, causing Stiles or me to make some loud comment to bring them back to Earth. But eventually, Scott and Allison were completely wrapped up in each other again. Tired of trying to keep their attention, Stiles rolled his eyes and turned back to me.

"So, what were you supposed to do?" he asked, shoving a wedge cut fry in his mouth.

"Hm?" I asked through a mouth of cookie.

"You said you were hanging out with your mom," he elaborated, slightly muffled. "What were guys gonna do?"

"Oh, we were just having a night in," I explained, waving my hand as I took a sip of my drink. "It's pretty much a regular thing, but it depends what our schedules are like. Every now and then we'll just order dinner in, clear our schedules and watch a movie or two together, or like marathon a television show. Usually it's me showing her stuff," I laughed. "She works from home, so she doesn't get out much."

"You sound like you're pretty close," Stiles observed, watching me from over the top of his own cup. I smiled.

"Yeah, we are. I've been trying to spend more time with her since the move too. I kind of feel like it's my job, you know?" I looked down at my plate, hand reaching for my dog tags as it usually did when conversation edged near the topic of my father. I could feel Stiles's copper eyes darting over my skin, and even though Allison and Scott were in another world, his attention was completely focused on me. After a few seconds, he spoke up.

"That's cool," he said simply. I looked up with my eyes slightly wide. I was met with a pair of carefully disinterested eyes, but I couldn't tell how much he actually knew. It was completely plausible that Allison had mentioned my father's death to Scott, who had in turn told Stiles. Or maybe Stiles, being as crazed about Lydia as he was, had found out about the new girl living with her from someone else. As easy as these solutions were, neither of them seemed right to me. Something soft in Stiles's eyes told me that he didn't just know or pity me, but understood, as if he had somehow figured out about my father just by looking at me and was gently avoiding the subject. "I'm the same way with my dad."

"That's cool," I echoed with a soft smile. Stiles nodded with a grin, thinking about his father.

"Yeah, I kind of have to force him to have meals with me so I can make sure he's eating right. He's not really supposed to have fries or burgers or greasy stuff like that."

"Hm, he's your father," I smirked, taking another bite of my cookie. "Isn't he supposed to be the one telling you not to eat junk food?"

"That's what he says!" Stiles replied energetically, waving his hands around. "But the doctor keeps saying he has to keep his cholesterol down and his blood pressure and stuff. But Dad's always working so it's kind of up to me to make sure he eats right." I smiled at his clear frustration.

"I'm sure he loves that."

"Yeah," he replied dryly. "Keeps telling me I'm ruining his life. Real thankful."

"Well I think it's sweet that you feel responsible for him," I complimented. Stiles shrugged, his cheeks getting a tad patchy.

"Right back at you," he shot, and I chuckled. "So what were you gonna watch with your mom?"

"Um, never got around to deciding," I answered. "Probably a couple old horror movies or something?" Stiles raised his eyebrows with interest.

"That's awesome! Your choice?" I smirked, shrugging.

"Mom said she wanted to watch a classic, so I told her that it better be a classic, poorly filmed horror because I was not watching West Side Story again." He laughed.

"Okay, okay," he said, swallowing another gulp of soda. "So if you were picking the movie, what would you go for?"

"Hm, not sure," I admitted, resting my chin in my hand. "Probably the original _Dracula_. Maybe _The Wolf Man_." Stiles stiffened and his eyes widened.

"Did you just say what I think you said?" he blurted before I could ask what was wrong.

"What-?" I started, but he cut me off.

"Did you just say that _The Wolf Man_ was a poorly filmed movie?!"

"Oh come on," I replied, slouching back in my chair. "I just meant it's old and low budget compared to today's standards."

"Ol-? Low bud-? H-How could you say that?!" he demanded. "That movie is awesome, okay? It's a classic! It should be like, mandatory to watch! For everyone! I keep telling Scott he has to watch it, because it's so unbelievably relevant and important and-!"

"Hey! I know!" I cut him off defensively. "I just said that it was like, my top pick, okay? You don't need to tell me how much of a classic it is, I'm just saying that the technology of the time held it back. It was what, like, the 1940's? It was poorly filmed."

"No!" Stiles retorted immediately. "No, no, no! You do not get to call a cinematic masterpiece like _The Wolf Man_ 'poorly filmed,' okay?! That's like—That's like blasphemy! Okay, you only use that term for movies where they had the ability to be better, for—for like shit movies like _Killer Klowns from Outer Space_ or something."

"Shut up," I said immediately, laying my hands on the table.

"What? No! I don't want you talking bad about the first classic werewolf movie when-!"

"No, no! Stop! I mean you know _Killer Klowns from Outer Space_?" Stiles froze, staring at me with wide confused eyes.

"Yes, of course I know _Killer Klowns from Outer Space_," he replied rapidly. "Why do you know _Killer Klowns from Outer Space_?" My face split into a huge, gaping grin.

"Um, it's only like my favorite crappy movie of all time?" Stiles sagged back into the booth, still staring at me with awed eyes.

"Seriously?" I nodded, still grinning. Suddenly, he mirrored my expression, springing up to lean forward on the table. "No, but like seriously?! Oh my God, this is like the best thing that has ever happened."

Stiles and I then launched into a long conversation about our favorite shit-movies. We discussed the pros and cons of each, talked about the filming and plot holes and flaws of each one, and got violently defensive if the other insulted a "quality movie." It was fantastic.

Suddenly, the sound of a phone ringing cut through both conversations. Allison jumped, fumbling with her purse as we turned to watch. She rolled her eyes when she glanced at the caller ID.

"It's my mom," she informed us. "Sorry, I have to take this."

"Yeah, no, that's fine," Scott replied to the apology. I got up letting her slid out of the booth and walk to the door. I sat back down, giggling as I watched Stiles fidget in his seat. After a few seconds, he burst.

"Yeah, that extra large Coke was a bad idea. I'll be right back." He sprang up and speed-walked to the opposite end of the café, racing for the bathroom and leaving Scott and I in semi-awkward silence.

"Hey, Sadie?" Scott asked a few seconds later. I looked over at his content, brown, puppy eyes before he went on. "I just wanted to say thanks for coming out with us today. I'm sorry you had to cancel your plans."

"Oh, don't worry about it, Scott," I replied earnestly. "Nothing that can't be rescheduled. Glad I could help, I guess."

"Are you having a nice time?" he prodded hopefully, raising his eyebrows and leaning forward, and I laughed a bit at his nervousness.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I assured him. "I'm having fun. Thanks for bringing the fourth wheel." I jerked my head towards the bathroom, and Scott smiled.

"Ha, anytime," he chuckled.

"What about you?" I countered, taking a sip of my almost-empty drink. "Are you having a good time with Allison?" Scott suddenly grew nervous, furrowing his brow and smiling sheepishly.

"Aren't I not supposed to talk to you about that?" he asked tentatively. "I mean you're Allison's friend."

"If this is gonna work, Scott, we're gonna have to be friends too," I teased. "Didn't you ever listen to the Spice Girls?" He chewed on his bottom lip, lowering his eyes and mulling over the question.

"I can't believe she even wants to go out with me," he admitted after some deliberation. "I like her. Ever since you guys walked into the school it's like I can't get her out of my head. Like, I really, really like her."

"Hm, I see," I drawled, smiling knowingly. "The breathless, dizzying kind of like where she's all you can think about or talk about, you dream about her, and kind of forget about everything else when you're around her? That kind of like?"

"Yeah," he said with a small smile full of wonder. "How'd you guess?" I shrugged.

"You're pretty obvious about it. Plus, you seem the type." I grinned. "Between you and me, Allison really likes you too."

"W-What kind of like?" he asked with wide eyes. I glanced out the window to check that Allison was still on the phone with her mom, looking pretty annoyed.

"The kind where she talks about you a lot, and her heart beats faster when she's around you. But I guess you already know that."

"What?" Scott blanched. "Why would I know that?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Um, cause she's not exactly subtle either? I figured you would have noticed how nervous and shy she can get around you, unless you're actually that naïve." Relief flooded over Scott's face.

"Oh, yeah," he chuckled uneasily. "I-I-I thought you meant that—that I could like hear her heartbeat or something and—and I was…confused…" I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Okay…" I drifted off. Scott was definitely weird. I honestly thought that he was a good kid with good intentions, and his feelings for Allison were obviously very real, but there was still something about him I didn't like. No, that wasn't the word. I didn't…buy. There were too many things about his that I didn't understand. The sudden appearance of his lacrosse talent was a good place to start, along with his skittish behavior, and whatever his connection was to Derek Hale. I'd never gotten a real answer about what had happened at the party, from Scott, from Stiles, or even from Allison when she explained that she'd forgiven Scott. But now that we were alone for a few seconds… I snapped. "Can I ask you something?" I blurted. Scott looked up from his empty plate, startled.

"Uh, yeah. Go for it."

"It's just…" I stared at him hard, licking my lips before reaffirming my resolve and pressing on. "I know that Allison's forgiven you for everything that happened, but… Are we ever gonna hear an explanation as to what happened to you at my party?" Scott's face fell.

"Sadie, look, I am so sorry-," he started, but I waved him off.

"Yeah, Scott I know you are, and I believe you. I really do. I just want to know if you're gonna tell me what was so terrible that you just left the party sweating and wincing and left your friends behind. Honestly."

"I had a really good reason," he said quietly, looking up at me through his eyelashes with his best set of pleading, puppy eyes. "Can you just trust me?"

"I don't know, Scott," I replied honestly. "Can I?" We stared at each other in silence for what felt like an eternity, and I willed myself not to give in and tell him to forget about the party.

"Yes," he answered finally. I took a deep breath.

"You're going to have to tell me something. Like…Derek Hale." Instantly I saw the change in Scott's demeanor. His entire body seemed to tense up, and I could see he was clenching his jaw.

"What about Derek?" he asked lowly.

"I know you said that he's not your friend…"

"He's _not_ my friend," he emphasized, nearly growling.

"I know," I assured him, slightly freaked out by the sudden ferocity. I could see why Allison had been worried. "But you obviously know him. Why else would he pretend you two were friends so he could drive Allison home? How else would he know about how you gave her the pen on the first day of school?"

"He said what?" Suddenly Scott was sitting straight up, completely at attention and alert. I jumped a little at his change of stature, then narrowed my eyes, considering his demeanor for a moment.

"Did…did you and Allison talk at all about what happened after you left the party…?"

"No," he answered immediately. "She said you guys didn't talk much, and all Stiles said was that he'd given Allison a ride. Why? What did he say?" It was a demanding tone, and the urgency and power in Scott's voice scared me a bit. But it didn't scare me any more than my other thoughts about Derek Hale.

"Well he showed up saying he was a friend of yours, and then described you a little. He said he was a part of the reason you were so good at lacrosse, and when I didn't believe that he was your friend, he mentioned that you'd told him about giving Allison your pen on the first day of school, and how it was cute you never shut up about her. Which you don't, so obviously you _do_ know this guy. No more lying." Scott stared at his hands for a moment, which were clenching his tray so hard his knuckles were white, and I wouldn't have been too surprised if he'd left dents under his fingers.

"Derek and I aren't friends," he said slowly, choosing his words carefully. "I met him earlier in the year. We've talked a couple times, mostly him talking to me, but he must have heard about the pen from someone else. I think… I think he drove Allison home because he wants me to trust him…" I considered that statement for a moment. Okay, it was vague, but it was more than I'd had before and seemed fairly plausible.

"Okay," I conceded. Scott looked up at me with cautious consideration. "But what does that have to do with me?"

"Nothing," he replied, his eyebrows descending over his eyes once more in confusion. "Why?" I bit my lip, glancing around the café as I clasped my hands tightly on the table. Allison was still outside, and Stiles nowhere to be found.

"Have you or Stiles mentioned me at all?"

"No," Scott assured me. "Sadie, what's going on?" I took a deep breath, chewing on my lip and glancing nervously at Allison's date.

"Derek showed up to the library during my shift. That wouldn't really be weird except for the fact that he doesn't seem like a library guy, and he took out all the same books Stiles had returned earlier, and…he knew my name... He knew who I was even though I never introduced myself, and from what I can guess, Allison didn't tell him either." Scott stared at me with wide eyes.

"Wha-? Wh-? But-! Wh-When…?"

"Back when Jackson was in the hospital," I replied after I'd chosen one of the several unfinished questions. "Scott, why does Derek care who I am?"

"I don't-!" Scott was still spluttering. "Wh-Why wouldn't you tell someone about this earlier?!" I semi-glared.

"Why would I ask you about someone you weren't supposed to know?" Scott huffed, looking around almost frantic, and then banging his elbows on the table, running his hands through his hair. "Scott…Is Derek dangerous?" Scott slowly looked up at me and held solemn eye contact with me for a few seconds. He seemed to be deliberating something, and though he didn't speak, his answer was clear.

"Wow," Stiles's voice interrupted as he walked up behind me, leaning on the edge of the booth's seat casually. "Okay, so eyes a little bigger than my stomach. Remind me not to do that again." Scott and I broke eye contact to glance up at him, still staring wordlessly, before looking back at each other. "What?" Stiles asked, not missing the motion. I could tell Scott looked worried, and I couldn't help but imagine I looked worse. "What's going on, guys?" Scott looked up at his best friend, opening his mouth to say something, but no words ever came out. Instead, Allison burst through the door and sped over to the table laughing.

"Oh, God, guys I am so sorry about that. My mom is like, literally insane sometimes." Three heads immediately snapped to Allison, wide eyed and mouths slightly agape. Scott recovered first.

"Oh that's uh… That's okay don't worry about it." Allison beamed at him, completely oblivious to the rest of the natural world beyond the two of them, as usual. I could feel Stiles's curious eyes on me as I looked at Scott with something akin to disbelief. Why weren't we telling her? But Scott had just continued on as if the previous conversation had not even happened.

"Apparently we've been out forever by her standards, and she and my dad are demanding I come home. I'm so, so sorry guys."

"It's fine," I mumbled.

"So, are you uh ready to go?" Scott asked with a wide smile.

"Yeah, if that's okay."

"Sure," Stiles agreed in a shaky voice. I handed Allison her purse and we quickly cleared off the table before walking to the Jeep. I noticed that Stiles stayed by my side for most of that time, and helped me in the driver's door of the car so I could sit behind him. I didn't complain once on the ride home.

When we pulled up to Allison's house, Scott jumped out first. Allison went to get up, then paused to look back at me.

"Oh, are you coming in?"

"Um…" I paused, looking between the three curious faces in front of me. "A-Actually, I kinda want to get back to my mom. Stiles, would you be able to drive me home?"

"Yup, sure," he agreed, settling forward in his seat and glancing at me in the rearview mirror.

"Thanks." Allison hugged me in the extremely cramped space that was the Jeep's "backseat."

"Thank you so, so much for coming," she breathed, squeezing me tightly. "I promise I will make it up to you." I laughed.

"Allison, don't worry about it. I'm gonna go hang out with my mom now, and honestly I had a blast today. But you still owe me one." I winked and she giggled.

"Absolutely. I'll talk to you later." She climbed gracefully over the front seat. "Bye, Stiles. Thanks for driving."

"Yeah, no problem," he agreed easily. She slid out of the car.

"Good luck," I called quietly in a singsong voice, just before she closed the door. She glared playfully at me before walking up to the porch with Scott.

"What happened at the café?" Stiles asked steadily, though we were both watching the altercation on the porch.

"Honestly?" I replied. "I'll let you know when I figure it out." We watched as Scott and Allison exchanged a few more words, positively beaming at each other. Then, after a not-so-quick kiss, Allison ducked in her front door. Scott was visibly floating on air when he got back to the Jeep.

"She said yes," he informed us breathily.

"To what?" I asked, stretching out my legs as much as I could in order to take full advantage of the extra room.

"Another shot at a one on one date!" he informed me, turning back with a smile. "We're going out later this week."

"Well, great," Stiles cheered in a less-than-ecstatic voice as we pulled back onto the road. "Dude, that's super. Fantastic. Now does someone want to tell me what happened at the café while I was in the bathroom?" Scott sobered up immediately, and I watched his body motions as he figured out what he wanted to say. He shifted in his seat, first turning to look out the window, then sighing and turning his body in so he was facing Stiles and could easily see me.

"Derek talked to Sadie," he finally decided on. Stiles went rigid in his seat, suddenly glancing from the road to his best friend to the rearview mirror to my face in the back and everywhere in between.

"Wh-What?!" he asked in a high voice. "About what? When was this?"

"The day you returned those werewolf books to the library," I said quietly from the back. Stiles glanced back in alarm, and I could see his shoulders tensing for a yell, so I scrambled up waving my hands. "Before you freak out!" I interjected. "You and Scott were denying that you knew Derek at all, so I didn't tell you until you admitted you did." Stiles balked, clearly at a loss for words.

"I told her that we've talked to Derek a couple times, and he probably drove Allison home from her party because he wants to gain my trust," Scott said strongly. I glanced over at him, observing his intense gaze on Stiles. It wasn't just the fact that he was talking as if I wasn't there that bothered me. It was the wording he used, like "I told her _that_" instead of "I told her _about_." It just made the whole thing seem like more lies.

"But why would he go to you?" Stiles asked. "I mean it's not like you're really close to Scott."

"You're asking me like I have a clue?" I spat. "I have no idea, and you morons won't even tell me everything."

"What did he say?" Stiles pressed, ignoring my jab. I sighed.

"Not much. I mean, he took out all of the books that you returned, which meant he had to file for a library card, which he obviously didn't have. I thanked him for getting Allison home and then he said something super creepy like 'I'm sure I'll see you around, Sadie.' And he just left."

"Well what the hell is that supposed to mean?!" Stiles demanded, looking frustratingly back and forth between the road and the passenger seat where Scott sat.

"I don't know," he admitted. "Look." He turned farther around in the passenger seat so he could look right at me. "I'm sure it's nothing. Derek just gets super creepy and annoying. I'll try and go talk to him, though." I nodded slightly, not completely buying it.

"Woah," Stiles objected from the driver's seat. "You can't just go talk to Derek! The guy's a huge freaking w-w…weirdo!" Scott glanced over at him as the Jeep pulled onto my road.

"I'm not gonna start anything. I just want to know what he knows about Sadie."

"You should also probably ask about the books," I added. "That was additionally super weird."

"Yeah, well we're more worried about you than the books," Stiles grumbled as he parked in front of the house. I didn't miss the longing look he cast over it, scanning the driveway for Lydia's car and the windows for a glimpse of her strawberry blonde hair.

"Here, give me your phone," Scott ordered. I fished it out of my purse and handed it to him. "You haven't seen him since then, right?" he asked, and I shook my head. "Okay, so I'll talk to Derek figure out what happened and tell him to leave you alone, and if you see him, you can just call one of us." He smiled when he handed the phone back, and I glanced down to see "Scott McCall" and "Stiles Stilinski" added to my contacts. I glanced up, looking from Stiles back to Scott.

"I should be worried, right?" Stiles made a whining noise of consideration while Scott shook his head.

"I promise, nothing's gonna happen to you."

"Can I trust you on that?" I asked, quirking my eyebrow. Scott smiled.

"Yes." I glared back and forth between the two boys for a few more seconds, but when it was obvious I wasn't going to get any more information, I attempted to let it go.

"Fine," I huffed. "Let me get out of the car." Scott jumped out the passenger door, and Stiles helped me over the seat. "Thanks for coming, Stiles," I said when I was sitting normally in the passenger seat.

"Hey, thank you," he countered. "I had fun." I smiled, but he still looked a little shaken by the Derek conversation. "So if you need me, or you know Derek's there, if—if you even just like _see_ him, you can—you can text me. And you should probably text me before that too so like, I have your number? So I know to pick up and stuff, you know? Yeah, you know." I smirked as he rambled, raising my eyebrows.

"Later, Stilinski," I replied, rolling my eyes.

"See ya, Bennet," he added with a nod. I slid out of the car, feet slapping the pavement as I turned to Scott.

"I guess I'll see ya, Scott." He nodded.

"Yeah, thanks for coming, Sadie. See you at school." I nodded and, resigned to my less-than-satisfactory set of answers, began to walk away.

"Hey Sadie!" Stiles called me back before I opened the door to the house. "Have fun with your mom! _Wolf Man_ all the way!"

"Will do," I chuckled, throwing up a mock salute. I stayed on the steps as Stiles started the car back up, speeding down the road. I watched until the shining blue Stalkermobile had disappeared and then knocked my head on the front door with a sigh.

I wanted to trust Scott and Stiles when they said Derek wasn't a threat and that I didn't have to worry, but I couldn't. I believed in their determination to keep me safe, that they would try their best. But just because I believed _in_ them didn't mean that I actually had to _believe_ them and their stories.

I sighed as I pushed the front door open, ready to order some take out and watch werewolves run around with my mom.

I wasn't sure what I was getting myself into at Beacon Hills, but I was slightly worried I might not be ready to find out.

* * *

**A/N: Wheee! I'm actually really pleased with the way this chapter came out. As you can tell, it's completely filler, all from my head. I just wanted to develop Sadie's relationship with Stiles a little more, and most importantly, Scott. I felt like I hadn't really given them enough chances to talk, and I wasn't quite ready to move onto episode 3 yet, so this lovely idea for a group "outing," not date, came to mind. While I love writing these, doing filler chapters is harder because it's all from my head. So I know you guys are probably really annoyed that I keep asking for reviews, but as this one wasn't extrapolated from the show, this time I really need your opinions! Please let me know how you're liking the story and how you feel about the characters. Thank you so much for reading and coming back for more!**

**-Brittney**


	8. Chapter 8

Every time I saw Scott or Stiles the next few days, I asked about Derek. Scott seemed to be getting increasingly annoyed. He was conflicted because as much as he wanted to talk to me and become friends, at the very least for Allison's sake, it was clear that he didn't want to talk about anything surrounding his mysterious not-friend. I could see Stiles getting frustrated too, but as far as I could tell it was less because I was asking and more because he still didn't have an answer. That was slightly comforting. Knowing that for once Stiles only knew as much as I did, at least when it came to Derek's visit to the library, reassured me that they weren't hiding anything again. Well, at the moment.

It was hard to question them during class though. Not only because there was actual schoolwork to be done, but because of Allison's presence. I'd sworn to Scott I wouldn't worry Allison about Derek until we knew what was going on. She hadn't seen him since the party, and Scott was convinced that Derek riding Allison home had been a one-time thing. I didn't like hiding something from her that was taking up so much space in my thoughts, but she seemed pleased I was making an effort to talk to Scott and Stiles more, regardless of the conversation topic. Still, it was difficult to grill Scott when I had to use odd phrases like "oh that thing we were talking about" and "that friend of yours" or "that thing you were researching." So when I walked into school only a few seconds behind the two best friends, I wasted no time in scurrying up behind them.

"I've never had a dream where I woke up like that before," Scott was saying, hands fiddling with his backpack straps.

"Really?" Stiles asked as I closed in on the space between them. "I have. Usually ends a little differently. Actually yesterday-!" Stiles cut himself off when he noticed the audience to his conversation. "Sadie! Hi!" he squeaked, voice going up at least two octaves and cracking a bit. I eyed him with suspicion and a tad of disgust. His eyes scanned my body routinely, taking in my green V-neck sweater, tan plaid skirt and brown, leather heels.

"Never mind," I scoffed, holding up my hands and trying to speed between them. "I don't want to be part of this conversation." Stiles spluttered as Scott chuckled.

"Hold on," he said, turning to look at Stiles across me. "A, I meant I've never had a dream that felt that real, and B, never give anyone that much detail about you in bed again."

"Noted," Stiles laughed nervously. Scott turned back to me with a small smile.

"What's up?" I raised my eyebrows as if to spit back, _"Are you serious?"_

"What's up with Derek?" I demanded. Scott's face dropped and he turned to keep his eyes straight ahead.

"I'm not sure. I haven't spoken to him yet."

"Well, come on, Scott!" I exclaimed, throwing my hands up and crossing my arms over my chest. "What are you waiting for?!"

"I'm sorry!" he pleaded. "It's just…Derek doesn't exactly want to see either of us right now…"

"I thought that he wanted to gain your trust?"

"He did—does!" Scott clarified.

"God, what did you two do?"

"What did we do?!" Stiles asked. "This—this guy is potentially stalking you for no reason and you wanna know what we did to upset him?!"

"When it's getting in the way of me finding out why Derek's interested in me, yes!" I glared at him.

"We may have…" Scott muttered, "…accidentally gotten him thrown in jail for something the police say he didn't do…"

"Dude!" Stiles objected. I rounded on Scott.

"You what?!"

"It was an accident!" he explained hurriedly. "It-It looks like he'd killed this girl, and the police are convinced he didn't do it, but-!"

"Wait," I cut him off, grabbing both boys by the shoulders and yanking them to a halt. "You thought this Derek guy killed a girl and didn't think that was a relevant fact to bring up when you found out that he knows where I live and work?! And then you tell me not to worry about it?!" Scott and Stiles both looked terrified. "Look," I spat. "I don't care if you think he killed that girl or not. You two are gonna get over whatever the fuck is wrong between you and Derek Hale, and you're gonna find out what's up. And then you're gonna tell me. Got it?" Stiles and Scott both nodded. "Good. I'll see you in English." I shoved them both away from me and stormed to my locker.

_"What a pair of creeps,"_ I thought angrily. I didn't care what any of the boys' excuses were going to be. Mostly likely that they didn't want to worry me, like Scott had said about Allison. If they were convinced enough to go to the police to try and get Derek thrown in jail, they absolutely should have worried me to take a little more precaution because the guy could be trying to kill me. Especially when the victim had been a brunette girl, who was not only dead but ripped in half! I thought back to dinner with Allison the night of the game, when she had mentioned someone had been arrested for the supposed animal attack. Scott and Stiles must have thought that with Derek locked up, there would be no need to tell us he was a suspected murderer. But Scott had also said that the police were sure Derek didn't kill anyone, and I assumed that meant he'd been released. That made me feel a little bit better. At least the creepy guy on my tail wasn't a proven psychopath. Still, what did Scott and Stiles have against Derek that they were so sure he was that dangerous?

My mental rant was cut off by the sound of the loudspeaker clicking to life in the hallway.

_"Attention, students. This is your principal,"_ it blared, the voice slightly muffled and lost through the voices of those still chatting in the hallway. I strained to listen. _"I know you're all wondering about the incident that occurred last night to one of our buses. While the police work to determine what happened, classes will proceed as scheduled. Thank you."_

The students around me let out a collective groan before going back to their gossiping. I stopped just outside my English classroom. Incident? Police? What the hell was that about?

"Yeah, dude, did you see it?" an over-excited senior asked his friends as they passed. "It's all like torn up in the back parking lot. Fucking crazy." I watched the boys continue down the hallway, biting my lip as I glanced back at the door to the classroom. Maybe it was because I was so on edge because of Derek, or maybe because I had just found out he'd been a murder suspect, but I suddenly felt extremely uneasy. I made a snap decision and walked right past the classroom as the warning bell rang. Students buzzed around me, reluctantly making their way to class as I pushed through the crowds to get to the back parking lot. The hallways were nearly empty by the time I got there, and I glanced around before pushing the blue door open.

There had definitely been an incident, and if I was being honest, "incident" was probably too light a word to describe it. Perhaps "catastrophe," "tragedy" or simply "attack." The bus sat standing alone in the parking lot, sectioned off by crime tape with it's tail end facing towards the door. Random officers buzzed around, some talking to teachers or bus drivers, others taking pictures of the carnage. There was blood all over the back of the bus, splattered on the windows, covering the back seats, and smeared on the outside as if someone had been trying to get away. There had to be a _someone_, I concluded, because more than one of the marks was clearly a handprint. The back door was hanging crookedly on its hinges, not only open but drastically bent by something massive. To top it all off, there were four deep claw marks scratched into what was meant to be the inside of the door.

I stayed frozen as the class bell went off behind me. I stared at the claw marks, noticing how far apart the individual lines were. It was nearly a foot. I shivered. Whatever made those marks was not only dangerous, but huge.

After a few seconds of staring, I slowly made my way back into the building, walking through the empty hallways. The sound of my heels on the tile echoed through the hall, but I hardly noticed, too wrapped up in my thoughts. What kind of animal could even do that? I took a breath to recollect myself before bursting into the English room, chest heaving as if I had run.

"Sorry, Mr. Neske," I said immediately as the entire class turned to look at the late arrival. "The hall traffic by the bathroom is atrocious because of that bus thing." The teacher smiled at me.

"Quite alright, Miss Bennet. Just take a seat." I smiled, waltzing to the back of the class and temporarily ignoring the curious look Allison gave me. She let it go until Neske told us to separate into pairs to work on the questions he'd given us for the short story we were currently working on. Allison moved into the desk on my left and we moved together so we could work and talk in quiet voices. Scott and Stiles did the same in front of us.

"So, traffic outside the bathroom?" she asked. "That was a pretty weak excuse."

"I know," I replied, shrugging my shoulders. "But Neske doesn't care."

"Yeah," Allison chuckled. "That's cause you're a brownnoser."

"Hm, that implies I go out of my way to make teachers like me, which I don't," I mused. "I was just born with the natural ability to make adults love me." Allison rolled her eyes.

"So? Where were you?" I looked around the classroom a bit before responding.

"I went to the back to check out the bus incident."

"And?"

"And it's not just an incident, it's absolute carnage out there." I briefly described the scene to her, broken door, blood and all. "I'm telling you, we should stop worrying about whatever steroids Jackson thinks Scott's taking and figure out what these animals are on."

"Jackson thinks Scott's on steroids?" Allison asked with wide eyes. I glared at her incredulously.

"So not the point!"

"Right, sorry," she apologized, ducking her head back to the worksheet.

"The amount of blood in the back of that bus?" I continued, looking at her worriedly. "Someone's almost definitely dead."

When English was over, we all parted ways to go to our respective classes. All anyone seemed to be talking about was the attack on the bus. I heard several theories, the most common of which was a mountain lion attack. Eventually people got bored with that response, and I started hearing everything from escaped zoo animals to mutated pond creatures. In chemistry, the police were spotted carting out a body to an ambulance. Thankfully, and frighteningly, the injured man had sprung up screaming, making the entire class jump back in surprise. Mr. Harris tried to calm everyone down, but after that, all anyone wanted to do was speculate about who the poor man had been and whether or not he'd survive. By the time I met Lydia for lunch, she seemed just as annoyed as I felt.

"Allison," she said shortly when the three of us got on line together. "I feel like we never have lunch together. Why do we never have lunch together?"

"Oh, well I usually eat with Scott," she explained, grabbing a water bottle as we reached the end of the line.

"Cute," Lydia commented snidely. She was still annoyed with Scott for Jackson's injury, and probably how he seemed to be the dominant topic of conversation with her boyfriend, but after he'd played so well in the first game, she had to admit he seemed like a worthy guy. Unfortunately, this newfound respect for Scott was the reason she beamed when she saw him and Stiles sitting at an empty table. "Well, let's compromise." Gripping her tray tightly, Lydia strutted off towards the pair of awkward boys. I chuckled at her purposeful walk, and Allison groaned.

"Please don't let her do this," she begged me, frozen at the end of the line.

"If you think I have any control over what Lydia does, you my friend are sorely mistaken." I patted her shoulder gently, coaxing her towards the lunch table. "Don't think about her being mean or manipulative. Just think about getting her off your back, and how happy Stiles will be to have lunch with her. I'll be with you the whole time." She groaned with her eyes closed, plastering a smile on her face as we approached the table. I quickly ducked down next to Lydia as we were joined by Danny, and to my displeasure, Dylan. "Play nice," I whispered to her, and she looked up at me innocently.

"Of course!" I gave her a warning look before walking around the table to sit across from Allison and next to Stiles.

"Hey," he said as I sit down. "You're sitting with us! Why are you sitting with us?" I smirked at his nervous excitement.

"Yeah, you're welcome," I whispered, watching him look around in awe as the people he deemed the all-stars of the school surrounded him. Jackson walked up to the table last, glaring at Dylan.

"Get up," he demanded. Dylan winced, pouting like a severely annoying child.

"Why don't you ever ask Danny to get up?" he whined.

"Because I don't stare at his girlfriend's coin slot," Danny shot as Dylan stood up, shoved out of the chair by Jackson. Lydia's boyfriend sat down at the head of the table as Dylan walked behind us. He briefly ducked his head down between Stiles and me.

"Yeah, well it's not Lydia's coin slot I want a look at." I resisted the urge to punch him in the face, and I could feel Stiles looking quickly between us.

"Tempting, but I'd rather let the vicious mountain lion grope me, Peters." Stiles let out a loud bark of laughter as Dylan stood back up to his full height, disgruntled. Lydia rolled her eyes.

"Oh my God, Dylan you're such a skeeve. Please just go sit somewhere else." I smiled gratefully at her as the lacrosse boy gave up and slunk away.

"So I hear they're saying it's some type of animal attack," Danny piped, taking a bite out of his apple. "Probably a cougar?"

"I heard mountain lion," Jackson corrected imperiously, causing Lydia to roll her eyes.

"A cougar is a mountain lion," she snapped. Jackson looked at her suspiciously, and she quickly restored her mask of ignorance. "Isn't it?"

"Yes, Lydia," I agreed, shooting her a disapproving look. It supremely irked me that Lydia tried to hide how smart she was. I knew she did it because Jackson didn't like getting shown up, but I felt like his ego could use it sometimes. He should be proud that his girlfriend was both the prettiest and smartest girl in school, not just eye candy. Lydia sent me a small smile. "Besides," I continued. "It doesn't matter what people are saying. I've also heard that the man was brutally and carefully murdered, and then the psycho tried to cover up his tracks by framing the poor innocent mountain lions." Stiles snorted, looking down at his phone while he checked that Lydia was right, and Jackson shook his head.

"Who cares? The guy's probably some homeless tweaker who's gonna die anyway."

"Actually, I just found out who it is. Check it out," Stiles offered, looking up from his phone. We all traded looks, crowding around as Stiles held out his phone in the middle of the table. I pressed myself awkwardly to his left side, trying to see the video on screen without a glare.

_"The Sheriff's department won't speculate on details of the incident,"_ a faceless reporter informed us over some footage of the police swarming the back of the bus, _"but confirmed the victim, Garrison Meyers, did survive the attack."_ The picture changed to a smiling, old man in a blue suit. "_Meyers was taken to a local hospital where he remains in critical condition."_

"Hey," Scott said as the video ended, looking from the phone up to Stiles. "I-I-I know this guy!"

"You do?" Allison asked, looking at him with worry.

"Y-Yeah, when I used to take the bus back when I lived with my dad," he explained, and I felt Stiles stiffen next to me. "He was the driver."

"Wow." I cringed, looking back to my lunch. "I'm sorry, Scott." I knew there was really no need to apologize, as it was unlikely Scott was actually close to the driver, but still. Finding out someone you even knew had been brutally attacked like that must have felt strange.

"Can we talk about something slightly more fun, please?" Lydia interrupted, twirling her fork in her hand in boredom. "Like…oh! Where are we going tomorrow night?" She turned to look expectantly at Allison and Scott, who both looked like deer caught in the headlights. When they didn't respond, Lydia prodded, "You said that you and Scott were hanging out tomorrow night, right?" I rested my head in my hands, shaking my head at Lydia. Unbelievable, as usual.

"Um," Allison stalled, glancing over at me for help that I couldn't give. "We were thinking of what we were gonna do?"

"Well," Lydia sighed. "I am not sitting home again watching lacrosse videos, so if the four of us are hanging out, we are doing something fun!" Stiles and I watched the disastrous altercation like a tennis match, glancing back and forth between all of the participants.

"H-H-Hanging out?" Scott asked, glancing at Allison. She stared back at him with wide eyes. "Like…the four of us? Do you wanna hang out like us and…them?" Allison winced, petrified under the eyes of both Scott and Lydia.

"Yeah, I guess," Allison replied, and I let my head drop onto my chest. _No. _"Sounds fun."

"You know what else sounds fun?" Jackson asked from the end of the table, clearly as displeased as Scott. "Stabbing myself in the face with this fork." Lydia quickly grabbed the fork from him.

"Now, now, Jackson," I scolded, taking a bite of my food. "Wouldn't want to ruin that angelic physique." Stiles practically moved his whole body with the force of his eye roll.

"How about bowling?" Lydia suggested excitedly. "You love to bowl!"

"Yeah, with actual competition," Jackson replied condescendingly. Allison perked up.

"How do you know we're not actual competition?" she asked confidently. Jackson raised his eyebrows. "You can bowl, right?" Allison asked Scott, who looked not only disappointed now, but downright panicked.

"Sort of…"

"Is it—is it 'sort of' or 'yes'?" Jackson baited, leaning his forearms on the table. Unfortunately, Scott took the bait hook, line and sinker.

"Yes," he answered immediately. "In fact, I'm a great bowler."

"Perfect!" Lydia cheered. "Then, we can all meet up at the bowling alley tomorrow at seven!"

"Lydia," I said soothingly, ready to reason that Scott and Allison just wanted to be alone. Unfortunately, this is not what she had in mind.

"Oh, Sadie! Of course, you can come too." My eye flew wide.

"What?"

"Yeah!" Allison jumped excitedly. "Come with Stiles!"

"What?!" he asked, just as I said, "No!" We glanced at each other. "Um," I continued. "No, no. I mean, bowling with six people's cumbersome, and um this seems like it should be a strictly couples thing, so the less other people there are the more time you guys get to spend together so, no. Also I-I really can't bowl all that well."

"Um, yes you can," Lydia corrected me, narrowing her eyes.

"Uh, well I certainly can't," Stiles laughed. "I am—I am truly terrible. Uh, nothing compared to Scott. Like literally, nothing, so yeah."

"Are you sure?" Allison asked, pleading for help, but I was adamant.

"Yeah," I agreed with a smile. "You know, someone's gotta stay at home and watch those lacrosse videos." That got me off the hook, and lunch continued with polite conversation about the details of their date. I glanced over at Stiles, who was fiddling with his food. On an impulse, I pulled out my phone and decided to text him.

_"Sorry about the quick denial. It's just that I really don't want to tag along on another one of Allison and Scott's dates."_

Stiles jumped a little when his phone went off in his pocket. When he read the text message, he sent me a small grin before replying.

_"Nah, I get it. I don't need to watch Lydia and Jackson together either."_

I nodded with a sad smile. It sucked that he had to be here listening to the girl of his dreams plan a date with her boyfriend and his best friend.

_"So no hard feelings about my super harsh rejection?"_

I smirked as I watched him hold in a chuckle, typing back.

_"I'll get over it. ;)"_

While I had Stiles's assurance that he was okay with the fact we wouldn't be attending the bowling date, I certainly did not have that assurance from Allison. As soon as lunch was over she accosted me in the hallway, looking on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

"What was that?!" she hissed once we were out of the cafeteria. "Sadie, you cannot leave me alone with Lydia and Jackson."

"You won't be alone," I assured her. "You'll be with Scott."

"Yeah, and he and Jackson will be fighting the whole time," she fretted. "I don't even want to think about Lydia…"

"Look, Lydia's doing this to be nice," I tried to reason. "She just wants to spend time with you and get to know you. So she tried to put you in a situation you'd be more comfortable with, by also having Scott. She's just…unintentionally trampled your date… Trust me, you'll be fine." Allison sighed and shook her head as she contemplated the validity of my argument.

"Fine," she agreed. "But at the very least you're coming over tomorrow night to help me pick an outfit."

"You know I'm not going to be able to do that without bringing Lydia too, right?"

"Yeah," she conceded with a nod. "But if you're not going to suffer through a date with Stiles, you can at least come over and let me rant to you about Scott for a few hours." I immediately dropped my head on my chest in defeat, making Allison laugh loudly. She wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me down the hallway towards our next classes.

So the next night, I left for Allison's house with Lydia in her newly washed car. I had spent hour in Lydia's room, not because she needed my opinion on an outfit, but because she wanted to rant to me while she got ready about how much of a killjoy I was being by not going. I blocked as much of the lecture as I could, lying on my stomach on her bed and reading an article on my laptop. When it became clear to her I wasn't listening, she collapsed next to me, reading over my shoulder.

"Sadie, why are you reading an article on werewolves?"

"Um, because I don't want to listen to you yell at me?" Lydia rolled her eyes, walking back to her vanity.

"Fine, but why werewolves?"

"I don't know," I answered evasively. "I was just clicking around." I didn't plan on admitting to her that I was reading about werewolves because Stiles had taken those books out from the library, lest she grill me about my interest in what he was hiding. Thankfully she gave up on it, returning to calling me a party-pooper until we arrived at the Argent household. After some quick introductions to Allison's parents, where I mentioned Lydia was the friend I was living with and Lydia flashed her blinding, thousand-watt smile at them, Allison dragged us into her room to hang out. I insisted that we all just chat for a while. I wanted to take the edge off between the two girls, make sure that Allison was more comfortable with Lydia, and that Lydia understood enough about Allison that she didn't have to push for information while she was with Scott.

A while later, I was sitting pretzel style in Allison's desk chair, flipping through some celebrity magazine while Lydia was perched on Allison's bed, watching the girl flip through her closet.

"Hm, pass," I heard Lydia say, in a kind but disapproving tone I was all too familiar with from earlier in the summer. "Pass. Uh, lemme see. Pass. Pass. Uh—pass on all of it. God, Allison, respect for your taste is, uh, dwindling by the second."

"Hey," I called over, not looking up from the magazine, even as Lydia chuckled. "Go easy her, Lyd. She hasn't gotten then privilege of a summer long makeover from you."

"True. You're still like, a thousand times better than Sadie was when she showed up."

"Hey!" I objected, glaring up at her. She ignored me, giggling and turning back to the closet.

"Huh!" she hummed in an approving tone. "This!" I glanced up to see her holding out a black shirt, covered with shining black sequins on the front. Allison raised her eyebrow, holding the blouse up and turning back and forth in the mirror.

"I don't know. Isn't this kinda fancy? I mean we're just going bowling."

"Not an excuse not to look fabulous!" Lydia grinned, fluffing Allison's hair a little. The brunette glanced at me.

"What do you think, Sadie?" I smirked.

"I think that Scott likes you so much that he's gonna love you in anything."

"Or nothing," Lydia added, winking at Allison in the mirror. Allison's eyes flew wide and we collectively broke into uproarious laughter. Because of that, it took us a few seconds to notice the door had opened.

"Dad, hello," Allison said suddenly, shaking her head towards the door. I slowly turned the desk chair around, hands clapped like some sort of James Bond villain. Mr. Argent chuckled at me, arm halfway into his sleeve before he picked up on his daughter's annoyed tone. He paused, looking at the ground.

"Right," he muttered, jabbing a thumb towards the door. "I'm sorry. I-I completely forgot to knock." Allison tossed her hands a bit, letting her arms fall to her side. Lydia held back a giggle, falling back onto Allison's bed and striking her best magazine model pose.

"Hey, Mr. Argent!" she greeted with a smile, twirling her hair around her finger. I snorted impolitely, causing her to glare at me.

"Dad, do you need something?" Allison asked, still clearly annoyed.

"I wanted to tell you that you'll be staying in tonight," he responded, finishing pulling on his jacket.

"What?" Allison retorted, incredulous. "I'm going out with my friends tonight!"

"Not when some animal out there is attacking people," he countered with finality.

"Dad! Dad, I'm-!" she tried to protest, but her father cut her off.

"Hey! It's out of my hands. There's a curfew. No one's allowed out past nine thirty PM." Allison nodded in annoyance, chucking her sparkly shirt over Lydia's head and onto the bed. "Hey," Mr. Argent continued. "No more arguing." And with that he backed out of the room. Lydia stood up from the bed while Allison just glared after him.

"Hm, someone's daddy's little girl," she teased, smirking as she looked between Allison and the door. Allison chewed on her thumbnail in silence for a few seconds before responding.

"Sometimes…but not tonight." With a fairly intense air of determination, she walked over to her dresser and tugged on her favorite purple hat. With a last glance at the door, she moved towards the window. Lydia and I shared a confused look and I finally stood up from my chair.

"Allison?" I asked. She ignored me, sliding her window open and stepping onto the roof outside. Lydia and I both ran to the window to watch as she paced around on the shingles.

"What are you doing?" Lydia asked in a worried voice. But before we could ask anything more, Allison jumped. She flipped once, twice, and then landed on her feet with a gentle thud in the garden below. My mouth fell open into an amazed grin while Lydia stood shocked beside me.

"Dude, what the hell?!" I quietly freaked. Allison giggled, tugging on her denim jacket.

"Eight years gymnastics," she whispered up with a smile. "You guys coming?"

"I'll take the stairs," Lydia responded weakly, backing up from the window to collect her things. I nodded reluctantly.

"As tempting as it is to swan dive off your roof, cause that was amazing, your parents will probably notice if I don't use the front door." Allison nodded, scurrying to hide behind Lydia's car as I ducked back inside and closed the window.

"That was insane," Lydia commented with wide eyes as we walked into the hallway.

"Insanely awesome," I corrected with a laugh. "God I wish I knew how to do stuff like that." When we reached the first level, I quickly peeked my head into the living room. Allison's father was sitting with his back to us, reading a newspaper. "Hey, Mr. Argent?" I asked, making him turn his head over his shoulder to see us. "Lydia and I are gonna head home for the night."

"Alright, well thanks for coming over," he responded.

"Thank you for having us!" Lydia chirped and we headed for the door.

"Hey, Sadie?" Mr. Argent asked, calling us back. "I'm sorry you girls couldn't go out tonight."

"No, we understand," I replied, nodding. "Like you said, police enforced curfew."

"Is Allison okay?"

"Well, she's kind of annoyed she's not going bowling. I wouldn't go up and try to talk to her tonight," I suggest in a false, amused tone.

"No worries," Mr. Argent chuckled. "I know better than to try and reason with a distressed teenage girl." Lydia and I both laughed politely until he waved us off. "Okay, well get home safe."

"Goodnight!" Lydia called, and we finally made it out the door. We quickly climbed into the Beetle, Allison hopping in the back, and sped off to our house once more. To make the night even worse for Scott, apparently his mother wouldn't let him take their car out. That meant that on top of having to hang out with Lydia and Jackson, he would have to be driven by them as well. I'd jokingly offered Jackson the minivan, but he'd responded that he'd rather die and would be driving everyone in the Porsche. Scott and Allison would just have to deal with being a little cooped up in the back. Though Allison had pleaded and begged to make things easy as possible, Jackson had reluctantly decided it would make more sense to pick Scott up first, and then pick Allison and Lydia up at our house. I had a sneaking suspicion it was because he wanted to grill Scott about steroids a little more, as if he was sure he'd just change his answer, but I didn't say anything. Allison was petrified of course, worried that Scott would be in a terrible mood before the date even started. Unfortunately, I had to agree that she had a decent cause for worrying.

The second we got to our house, Lydia was dragging Allison out of the car and up the stairs. She was glad that Allison was coming of course, just super annoyed she hadn't thought to change into her black shirt before she jumped out the window. So instead she was going to receive a mini makeover from Lydia in the time they had left before bowling. I let them go, walking up to my own room and changing into a pair of warm sweatpants and a T-shirt. I pulled my short hair up into a bouncy, high ponytail, and then walked down the hall to my mom's office.

She was still sitting inside head in her hands as she looked down on the complicated numbers. I knocked on the doorframe.

"Hey, Mom." She looked up from her work, frustrated face easing into a smile when she saw me.

"Hey, sweetheart. Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I assured her, wandering into the room. "Just exhausted."

"Well I know that feeling, let me tell you," she ground, looking around at the paper-strewn desk.

"You look like you could use a break," I offered with a grin. She looked back up at me with a wide smile.

"You know, I could."

"Movie night?"

"My pick." I shrugged backing out of the room.

"Sure thing. I'll go start the popcorn." I jogged downstairs and had just started the first bag of popcorn in the microwave when the doorbell rang. "I got it!" I called up, padding the door and swinging it open to find Jackson and Scott, both looking incredibly irritated. "Hey guys," I greeted, stepping aside so the could come into the entryway. Jackson smirked imperiously as he looked at my attire.

"Well don't you look like a homeless person," he fake complimented. I rolled my eyes, throwing up a pair of middle fingers.

"Thanks. Oh wait—I don't care." I shoved him towards the stairs. "Go tell your girlfriend to stop attacking Allison with her makeup brushes and hurry up." He waved me off, but did as he was told. I grinned at Scott as I shut the door. "So," I started, motioning for him to follow me into the kitchen. "How bad was the ride over?"

"So bad," he groaned. "Allison makes me nervous enough without Jackson trying to psych me out." I patted his shoulder, grabbing the finished bag of popcorn from the microwave and putting in a second one.

"You've got nothing to worry about," I consoled. "Allison really likes you, and if you're as good a bowler as you say, then Jackson will have to shut up eventually." Scott winced guiltily.

"Yeah…except I'm not." I laughed.

"Well, Allison'll like you even if you guys don't win. Don't worry too much." He nodded quietly as I poured the popcorn into a bowl.

"You look nice by the way," he commented. I gave him a pointed look as I shook some butter flakes into the bowl. He chuckled. "No, I mean you look comfortable. It's kind of cool to see you without all of Lydia's clothes and stuff. Just, normal." I smiled, pushing the bowl of popcorn between us.

"Thanks, Scott." He grinned, taking a piece for himself.

"No problem."

The sound of footsteps on the stairs made Scott and I wander back into the entryway. Jackson was rolling his shoulders, jaw clenched again in what seemed like an ever-present face of annoyance, and Lydia and Allison skipped down the stairs behind him.

"Hey, Scott," Allison greeted, giving him a light peck as she reached level ground.

"Uh, hey," he replied breathily. "You look amazing." Allison blushed, and I rolled my eyes with a smile.

"Okay, all of you out of my house. You've got strikes to bowl, and I have a movie to watch. Scoot!" I practically pushed them all out into the driveway. I said a quick prayer for everyone's sanity while I watched them climb into the Porsche, and then retreated back inside. When I'd finished making the popcorn and grabbing drinks, I walked into the living room to find my mom on the couch, the DVD menu already playing on the television screen.

"_Twilight_, Mom? Really?"

"Now hear me out," she half laughed as I collapsed next to her on the sofa. "I know you don't like it, but I wanted to watch some more magical creatures. Make fun of me all you want, but it was my pick tonight." I rolled my eyes.

"Whatever."

"Besides," she added. "I'll let you laugh at all the parts you hate, like that line you love so much."

"Okay for one thing, that's in the third movie," I corrected with a laugh. "And that's because it's literally the most pointless line in like any modern-day film I've seen. 'What are you doing outside?' Like, I'm walking to your house from my car, would you like me to drive through your window next time?" Mom threw her head back with a laugh and then pressed play.

"Okay, so it's sometimes a bad movie. But it's not any worse than your pick for a crappy movie. You said yourself that _The Wolf Man_ was poorly filmed."

I smiled as the opening credits began to roll, and whispered to myself, "You're not allowed to call it poorly filmed."

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys! So thanks a bunch to those of you who reviewed the last chapter (masqueraderose3, Rachel, xxxxninaxxxx, ScornedxRose, my mysterious Guest and becca1130). I'm glad you guys liked the filler chapter, the banter and the relationships. I loved the feedback, so keep it up!**

**This chapter was pretty much a let's-get-here-to-there chapter, but I tried to throw in a couple moments with Stiles and Scott you could enjoy. Also, gonna apologize for the slight Twilight bashing at the end. I just thought it might be a little funny and ironic, and that really is my favorite line of the entire franchise. **

**Finally, news for all you who have tumblrs! I've decided to take a hint from my friend Ashlea, who wrote like the best Stiles/OC stories "Strangers" and is making a sequel you should all check out, and I've started posting about the story on my tumblr. Sometimes when I'm bored I'll rant a little about what I'm writing, or put up photo and gifsets with teases for the next chapter. So if you're interested in inside information or visuals, you can check me out at thetenthdoctorscompanion, and just click on the "Stiles/OC" link on the side. Thanks for your continued support!**


	9. Chapter 9

"Sadie!"

I froze at my locker, looking wildly around as Allison sped down the hallway towards me, huge smile on her face. I raised my eyebrows at her excitement. Usually I got to school earlier, so I would meet her at her locker. But apparently there was something so pressing that it couldn't wait.

"Hey, slow down there," I laughed, closing my locker and smoothing out my abstractly printed yellow and white dress. "Good morning to you too, Allison." She laughed as she barreled up to me, one hand tucking her books against her chest and the other on her hip as she caught her breath.

"Hi!" she said brightly.

"What's up?" I inquired with a giggle.

"What's up is that my Aunt Kate just got into town last night," she gushed, falling into step beside me as we headed for English. "She's like my favorite relative and she's coming to live with us for a while."

"Oh, well that's fun," I grinned, and Allison turned to look at me, still beaming.

"She's really awesome, and I want you to come over and meet her. You guys are gonna get along great, I can tell."

"Aw, so I get to meet the family?" I teased.

"Well, yeah," she replied. "I mean she's gonna want to meet my best friend." I dropped my shoulders and smiled at her, but didn't reply. I knew better than to get into the whole "aw thank you" "no thank you" argument.

"So!" I said instead. "When should I come over to meet your badass Aunt Kate?"

"Um, I was thinking like tomorrow or the day after?" she offered. "I'd have you come today, but you know, I guess she wants to get settled and um, I'm having Scott over to study so…" I immediately grabbed her shoulder.

"Excuse me," I said with a smirk. "As much as I love hearing that I'm your best friend and I'm gonna meet your family, you don't think it was a little more pressing to tell me that you have a scheduled make out session with Scott today?"

"I-It's not a make out session!" Allison defended shyly. "It's a study session!"

"Mhm," I replied, completely unconvinced and enjoying her discomfort. "Right, of course. Well, I hope you're doing well in all your classes cause the only thing you and Scott are gonna be studying is anatomy." Allison laughed incredulously, shoving me through the door of the English room. I giggled, walking back to my seat as the bell rang and Mr. Neske started handing out our tests. I tapped the corner of Scott's desk as I passed teasing, "Good luck!" in a singsong voice. Scott looked mildly confused, but Allison pushed me past him.

"Sit down!" she hissed, glaring playfully. I held up my hands in defense, smirking and taking a seat.

I didn't stop teasing Allison all day, but I kept it to a bare minimum around Scott. I didn't know if the poor puppy boy had even realized what he was agreeing to when he said he'd come over to study. Even if he did, I knew how nervous he could get around Allison, and he didn't need to be freaked out by my jokes. So mostly, I just smirked at her, or poked her occasionally, and left the puns to classes we just had by ourselves. This became especially hard during lunch, when I sat with Allison, Scott and Stiles again. Apparently, Stiles had also been informed that Scott was going over to "study" and he also had a huge smirk plastered on his face while he watched Allison and Scott talking. I had to leave the table at least three times to recollect myself because every time there was an opportunity for a joke, or when Allison and Scott blushed or giggled, we caught each other's eye and nearly broke out laughing. That was something I was determined not to do, as funny as the situation may have seemed. But I managed to make it through the day without cracking up once, and for that, I was very proud. I'd also managed to keep the secret from Lydia. Well, until the end of the day.

Allison, Lydia and I had all been walking around the hallway chatting about Lydia's fashion choices. She had complimented Allison's purple dress, and then gone on a rant about how well purple worked on brunettes, hence her purchase of the lilac blazer she had chosen for me, which I was sporting today with a white button down, dark purple beads, plum colored heels and blue jeans. Then she went on to talk about how good she looked in green because of her strawberry blonde hair, using her forest green cardigan as an example.

"God, I feel like we need to hang out more," Lydia said, laying a hand on Allison's arm. "It feels like ages since you kicked ass at bowling."

"It hasn't been that long," Allison chuckled, but Lydia was on a roll.

"Ooh! I know! Why don't you come over to our house today? You can try on some of the stuff I got for Sadie and we'll see what looks good on you!"

"She can't," I answered before Allison could supply an answer. "She has a bedroom date with her boyfriend." Allison rolled her eyes, obviously not amused.

"Scott's coming over?" Lydia prodded. "Tonight?"

"We're just studying together," Allison clarified. But Lydia scoffed, clearly on my side.

"Just studying never ends with just studying," she advised with a smirk. "It's like getting into a hot tub… Somebody eventually cops a feel." I raised my eyebrows at Allison, silently saying, _"I told you so" _before I turned around and began following Lydia up the stairs.

"Well, so what are you saying?" Allison asked, scurrying after us.

"I'm just saying, you know, make sure he covers up."

"Lydia!" I scolded.

"What?" she asked, looking at me innocently. "It's true. You can't trust boys to remember!" Allison looked frantically back and forth between the two of us. Lydia chuckled at her panicked look. "God, it's like you two are innocent Disney princesses! Hello, Belle and Snow White! I'm talking about a condom!" I shook my head as Allison choked out a nervous laugh.

"Are you kidding?" she asked incredulously. "After one date?"

"Two," I corrected her. She smirked.

"I thought that first one wasn't allowed to count as a date." I rolled my eyes as Lydia cut in.

"One or two doesn't matter," she scoffed. "Don't be a total prude. Give him a little taste."

"Well, I-I mean," Allison stuttered as Lydia lightly slapped her chest. "How much is a little taste?" Lydia stared at her for a moment, considering her response.

"Oh God. You really like him, don't you?"

"You have no idea," I groaned. Allison chuckled.

"Well," she started, before sighing. "He's just different. When I first moved here, I had a plan. No boyfriends till college. I just move too much, but…then I met him, and…he was different…I don't know…" Lydia raised her eyebrows as Allison retold the story I'd heard at least three times. Still, the shyness in her voice made me smile a little bit. "I don't know," she laughed. "I can't explain it."

"I can," Lydia replied simply. "It's your brain flooding with phenylethylamine."

"What?" Allison laughed, completely at a loss.

"Neuromodulator," I added, not missing a beat. "You know, dopamine, norepinephrine…" Allison continued to stare at us in amused confusion. "It's chemistry's way of saying your horny," I summarized, and without looking at each other, Lydia and I high-fived. Allison laughed loudly, her face flushing again.

"I'll tell you what to do," Lydia conceded tipping her head back and pointing at her. "When's he coming over?"

"Right after school…?" Allison answered tentatively.

"Hm," Lydia mused, before the final bell rang. "So I guess that means you don't have time to run home and slip into something more comfortable." She winked and Allison blushed as we slowly made our way to the parking lot. "So, try and hold him off for a little, tease him. Blow him off the first couple times he tries anything."

"No," I interrupted, shaking my head. "First of all, Scott's such a nervous wreck if you shut him down once he might not even try again. Second, he's still working the skittish puppy dog thing, so it's more likely you'll be making the first move." Allison nodded in understanding, and Lydia let out a frustrated scoff.

"God I hate timid boys. They're so unpredictable."

"Well that's why you have Jackson," I shot, looping my arm through Allison's. "Now stop talking bad about Scott."

"Fine," Lydia agreed, holding on to Allison's other arm. "So, you guys have already kissed, and I guess if you're still with him that must mean he's good enough. But make sure you 'study' in your bedroom so you've got the bed to make out on. I'd say don't go farther than hands under bra."

"Under shirt, over bra," I advised. "You're both still new, and you don't want to break Scott the first time round." Allison let out a breathy laugh, face slowly turning grapefruit pink. Lydia shot me a look. "What? It'd be a mood killer if he died from excitement."

"No it's a fine point," she conceded. "I'm just wondering when you got so good at this." I shrugged, smiling proudly.

"I'm inexperienced, not quite useless." Lydia giggled, pouting at me affectionately.

"Aw, you're gonna make me so proud one day!" We all laughed as we walked through the doors to the front lawn.

"So Allison, are you sure you're gonna be okay?" She nodded, pulling away from Lydia and I.

"Hopefully…"

"Just go with it," Lydia assured her. "Do what feels right, and don't do anything I wouldn't do." She winked and quickly hugged Allison goodbye.

"Good luck!" I called after I hugged her, and Lydia pulled me off to go find Jackson in the parking lot. We found him leaning against his Porsche, looking even surlier than usual.

"You okay?" Lydia asked, waltzing up to him and kissing him firmly. He wrapped his arms around her waist, but hissed in pain when she tried to reach around his neck. "Jackson?"

"What happened?" I asked, placing my backpack in the back seat.

"Some crazy asshole practically shanked me," Jackson growled, fingers brushing over the back of his neck.

"When was this?" Lydia asked in concern.

"A little after lunch," he spat. "Some out of whack older dude looking for McCall."

"Lemme see," Lydia cooed as I froze. There was only one creepy older guy I knew of who would be looking for Scott. "Ouch," Lydia hissed as she jerked the collar of Jackson's jacket down. "That doesn't look like you got shanked, that looks like he dug his fingernails into your neck. Looks painful."

"Yeah?" Jackson snapped. "How do you think I feel with you yanking my neck around?"

"There was a creepy older guy looking for Scott?" I asked finally.

"Yeah," Jackson replied, glaring at his girlfriend and pushing his seat forward so I could crawl in the back. "Probably his drug dealer. He looked wrecked, but the freak did this before I could get a straight answer from him."

"Big, gruff guy with black hair and a leather jacket?" Jackson paused.

"Yeah. You know him?" I looked frantically around the parking lot. Sure, he'd told Jackson he was just here to see Scott, but he'd hurt him too. If Derek Hale was hurting my friends on campus, I wanted to keep tabs on him.

"Uh, not really," I replied. "I've seen him lurking around once or twice."

"Probably waiting for customers," Jackson scoffed, putting the seat back and climbing into the car. "I swear to God, once I find out what McCall is on…"

"We know," Lydia interrupted, clearly bored. "You'll get as much as you can of whatever it is and then you'll show him who the boss is."

"Then I'm gonna cut him off," Jackson seethed. "And he can go back to being a loser and everything can go back to normal." This part of the conversation was nearly lost on me however, as I was too busy looking around for my supposed stalker.

Jackson pulled out of the spot and into the queue of cars, but we'd only been inching along for a few seconds before the car came to a complete stop. He waited impatiently, drumming his hands on the steering wheel and glaring at the back of the car in front of him.

"Come on," he groaned, honking the car horn. Nothing happened. Like any self-entitled teenage boy, Jackson seemed to think laying on the horn was the best solution. He apparently wasn't the only one. Everybody in the parking lot seemed to be honking at the jam. Jackson slammed the horn continuously, but just as my head was starting to ache from all of the noise, Lydia grabbed his wrist.

"Oh my God, Jackson! Stop acting like a child! Just get out of the car and see what's wrong." Her boyfriend glared at her, snatching his arm back and storming out of the car. I tried the best I could to crane my neck, trying to peer around the car in front of us to see what was causing the backup. But unfortunately, as I was confined to the backseat with no car door, I was completely clueless. I saw several other people climb out of their cars to check out the damage too, but no one around the car was saying anything distinctive enough to get a good idea of what was going on. A few minutes later, Jackson ripped the door open, climbing angrily back inside.

"Shoulda known this shit would have something to do with those losers," he grumbled, waiting for the line to start moving again.

"What did Scott do now?" Lydia asked, examining her fingernails.

"Just helping his drug dealer into Stilinski's piece of crap," Jackson fumed.

"What?" I demanded frantically, looking around for a sign of Derek or Stiles's Jeep. "Where were they taking him?" Jackson furrowed his brow staring at me in the rearview mirror.

"Um, how the hell should I know?" he asked. "Probably the bank so the loser can take out his life savings for some juice. If he starts using the same shit as McCall…"

I tuned Jackson out, not prepared to listen to the same threats for another time that day. So one minute, Derek just wanted to gain Scott's trust. The next, he was visiting him at school and getting rides from Stiles even though the boys had gotten him thrown in jail? I understood Derek's persistence, but what I didn't get was Stiles and Scott's willingness to help. They'd made it very clear that they didn't like being around Derek, so I doubted they'd just offered to give him a ride home. If Scott had been helping Derek into the Jeep, did that mean Derek was hurt? And if he was, why go to Scott for help instead of the hospital? Was Stiles taking him to the hospital? I groaned inwardly. I'd managed to push off my concerns about Derek for a while, but there was something that still didn't add up about his relationship with the boys. I doubted Derek was just some sketchy guy with an interest in Scott and I, who they wanted me to stay away from. There had to be more to it than that.

Regardless of whether or not he was hurt, Derek was obviously comfortable enough with Scott and Stiles to talk to them, which meant that they boys might have an opportunity to ask about how he knew me. I realized that if he was hurt, it was likely that asking about me would take a back seat. Scott and Stiles at least seemed like they would be the kind of people to help anyone who was hurt, unless they had a really good reason. But I figured it was worth a shot.

I pulled my phone out of my purse, and even though I knew he was driving, I decided to text Stiles first.

_"Are you with Derek?"_

But by the time Jackson had pulled up to our house to drop Lydia and I off, he hadn't texted me back. I bit my lip, trying again as I walked up the steps to the house.

_"Let me rephrase that. I know you're with Derek. Is everything okay?"_

When we got inside, Lydia dragged Jackson off to the bathroom to patch up his neck, and then assumedly retreated to her bedroom with him. I stopped in the kitchen to grab a glass of ice tea before I locked myself in my room to do my homework. Before I started my English, I decided to text Scott too. I knew that he was "studying" with Allison, but decided the issue was important enough to ask anyway.

_"Why was Derek at school today?"_

I paused to send Scott or Stiles a text message every time I finished my homework for a subject. I was sure they both had a pile of messages from me by the end of the night, but neither of them had bothered to text me back. I was angry, sure, but I was also worried. Scott and Stiles both seemed intent on keeping me away from Derek because they seemed to think he could be dangerous. Originally, I'd sided with the police. If they said that Derek hadn't killed anyone, then he could just be a super creepy but misunderstood guy. But now that I'd seen what he did to Jackson, my fears about him knowing who I was resurfaced. He'd climbed into a car with Stiles, who suddenly wasn't answering my texts. I didn't message him a lot, but he was usually pretty prompt with replies, and I knew he generally would have been if I were worried about the topic Derek specifically. Scott, I assumed, was too wrapped up in Allison, literally, but what reason did Stiles have to ignore my messages unless…unless he was hurt... Needless to say I found it fairly difficult to concentrate on my work. It took me much longer than usual to finish all of my assignments, well past dinner. And to add to my worries, I got a text from Allison just as I finished my biology homework.

_"Oh my God that was one of the worst experiences of my life."_

I fumbled with my phone in my haste to text her back. Flashes of our conversation about Scott coming over flashed in my mind, and I prayed that he hadn't screwed everything up.

_"What the hell happened?! What'd Scott do?!"_

I bounced my leg nervously as I waited for the reply.

_"Scott didn't do anything. It was my freak family that ruined everything."_

"Good boy, Scott," I sighed, half in pity and half in relief. I was glad Scott hadn't done anything I'd have to physically hurt him for, and at least awkward family interruptions were a normal part of a high school relationship. Nothing too crazy.

_"I wouldn't worry too much. It'll probably take a little more than a crazy family to keep Scott away from you."_

Allison replied almost instantly.

_"Yeah, well I wouldn't blame him if he never wanted to talk to me again after tonight."_

I rolled my eyes, putting my books back in my book bag before texting her back.

_"Well what happened?"_

I kept the phone in my hand while I went to grab a pair of pajamas from my dresser, so that when it went off a few seconds later, I was ready.

_"Short version? Dad caught us in the garage, freaked out, and then my Aunt Kate roped him into staying for the worst family dinner of all time."_

I winced from secondhand embarrassment as I read the text before sending a simple reply.

_"Ouch."_

Allison wasted no time in texting me back.

_"Yeah. Full story tomorrow, though. Night!"_

I didn't bother replying, instead deciding to chuck the phone carefully across the room onto my bed, where it landed neatly next to my pillow. I collected my clean clothes and closed my bedroom door behind me as I made my way to the bathroom for a hot shower. I spent probably twice as much time in there as I normally did, trying to keep my mind blank and away from anything Derek related. Though, as he now seemed to be involved with every one of my closest friends, that was pretty difficult.

When I finally got out my fingertips were extremely wrinkled and pruned, but I felt at least a little more refreshed and relaxed. I changed into my pajamas and dried my hair before shuffling back to my room to collapse into my bed. I tugged the hangings closed and curled up on my side, more than ready to be unconscious so I could stop thinking for a while. But only a few seconds later I was nearly blinded as my phone lit up right next to my face. I heaved myself up onto my elbow, blearily opening the new message.

_"Hey I know it's late but I just wanted to let you know everything was okay. Talk to you tomorrow."_

I smiled a little when I realized the message was from Stiles. He wasn't completely off the hook for not messaging me back all day, but at least he'd attempted to reassure me. Vowing to interrogate him the next morning, I put my phone to sleep and tucked it under my pillow, already much more comfortable falling asleep now that I knew everyone was safe.

However, that beautiful, calm feeling didn't last for long. I woke up a little late the next morning and had to rush to get changed into the clothes I'd set out the night before: black stockings with a black and white patterned dress, all tied together with a red belt around my waist, red heels, and a red headband with a bow. I tried to make it look like I was wearing a decent amount of makeup by putting on some red lipstick to distract from the rest of my face. Then I slipped on my trusty leather jacket and raced down the stairs into the Beatle. My outfit received Lydia's blessing and even praise, and she let me fix my makeup in the mirror on the way to school. By the time we got there, I bore no signs of waking up late.

I quickly grabbed my things from my locker before walking to the hallway where Allison's locker was. While she wasn't at school yet, my prime targets were, so I breezed past our usual meeting place and right up to Scott and Stiles at theirs.

"You both owe me some serious explanations," I growled, digging my foot and crossing my arms over my chest. Scott and Stiles glanced at each other warily, Stiles already beginning to stutter. "You first," I demanded, directing all my attention to the nervous boy. "I know you were with Derek. What the hell happened and why didn't you text me back?"

"Um, I-I uh… You see Derek was…"

"He was hurt, right?" I asked, and I watched the boys exchange another look.

"Yeah," Scott agreed. "He got into a minor car accident walking down the road nearby." I was about to ask whether or not he was okay before another thought crossed my mind.

"What was he doing walking around by the school?" I asked nervously.

"Coming to talk to me," Scott informed me. "I-I told him that I needed to talk to him, you know cause I still hadn't asked about you, and instead he got hit by a car on his way here."

"We weren't really sure what the damage was," Stiles jumped in, beginning to ramble. "And—and—and since Scott doesn't have a car, I had to take him to the hospital wh-which—which is the reason I couldn't text you back because, because you're not allowed to use your phone in the hospital and I was there for like a really long time making sure that Derek was okay, which he is now, you know, he's completely okay which is kind of awesome, b-but he was like in care for a lot of the time while I was waiting and it was pretty hectic s-so I didn't get a chance to ask him why he knows who you are…yeah…sorry…" I stared at him blankly as the boy blabbered himself into silence. I thought over the story in my head for a few seconds, before finally deciding it was decently plausible. I'd known Derek got hurt, and if he walked to the school, Stiles was probably the closest person to get a ride with to the hospital. I didn't quite buy that he hadn't seen my text messages for the entire night, but could understand that he may have been too stressed to really text back a decent reply. Having to rush your frenemy to the hospital in critical condition would realistically be a little disorienting. I decided to let him have that one. Instead, I turned to Scott.

"Okay. And what's your excuse for not messaging me back?" Scott smiled sheepishly.

"Allison," he replied simply, and I smirked.

"Fair enough. I heard that you guys had a rough night." Stiles snorted next to me, and I shoved him forcibly into the lockers with one hand. He winced, but I kept my eyes and attention on Scott. "Glad to see you're still in one piece."

"I'm lucky to be in one piece," he confided, now speaking to both me and Stiles, who I gathered hadn't heard the story yet either. "Her dad definitely hates every fiber of my being, and the rest of her family…just really scares me…" I giggled as Stiles shivered theatrically.

"I'm supposed to go over to meet her Aunt Kate tonight," I informed them. "Allison seems to think we'll get along great. Should I be worried?" Scott and Stiles shared one of their increasingly familiar, panicked looks, but any response they had was cut short by the arrival of Allison.

"Good morning, everyone," she smirked, strolling right up to her boyfriend. Stiles and I looked at each other with awkward smiles as the couple eagerly kissed beside us. Scott looked thoroughly dazed by the time Allison pulled away.

"Maybe we should meet at my locker more often," he suggested, draping an arm around Allison's waist. She giggled.

"I'm still really sorry about yesterday," Allison admitted shyly.

"Hey, don't be," Scott insisted, looked down at her earnestly. "It—It wasn't that bad and, trust me, I've been through worse."

"They're just protective," she went on, obviously trying to reassure herself more than us. I cleared my throat, bringing the conversation back to the public realm.

"Speaking of," I interjected. "Am I still coming over after school or are you quarantining your family after last night?" Allison chuckled, ducking her head in embarrassment.

"No, no, you can still come over. I brought my car today, so we can just meet up after the bell." I easily agreed, and the four of us all walked to English together to get our tests back.

Once we were away from Scott and Stiles, Allison told me all about the fiasco at her house the night before. Apparently he'd been really jumpy while they were making out, and at some point started to look through the boxes in her room. She'd taken him down to the garage to show him some of her other stuff, where they started making out again, until her dad burst in and caught them, at which point she and Scott were forced to awkwardly help bring in the groceries. Then in an attempt to be nice, her aunt had stopped Mr. Argent from just sending Scott home, insisting that he stay for dinner. Her dad had grilled Scott about everything from alcohol to drugs, and downplayed his lacrosse talent just because he was angry. Scott had to suffer through dinner and desert at Kate's insistence before he was allowed to rush home. Just when Allison thought things couldn't get any worse, Kate had stopped Scott from leaving because she thought he'd been going through her stuff. I nearly screamed when I found out it'd only been Allison looking for a condom.

"What?!" I squealed, and she blushed.

"I-I just wanted to have it just in case!"

"Oh my God, Allison," I giggled. "Why didn't you just ask Lydia for one?"

"Because I wasn't sure I wanted you guys to know!" she whined. "You guys were giving me all these specifics about what to do and how far I should go, and I wasn't sure what you'd say if…if I said that I wanted it, let alone used it." I patted her shoulder.

"Well if that's how you feel we should probably get you a box stat. No more rummaging through your aunt's stuff," I joked. "And who cares what I think or what Lydia thinks? It's your life, and if you and Scott decide to do it then, you know, just be careful. And I certainly hope you'll decide to tell me." Allison smiled gratefully at the reassurance.

I finally managed to get a decently graphic play-by-play out of her on the car ride to her house. When it came down to it, Allison had been the one to take charge, but Scott didn't seem too far behind, and she seemed more than satisfied with the results. I tried to keep the teasing to a minimum, figuring I'd maxed out my quota by repeatedly testing her patience at school the day before. So when we did get to her house, I just focused on my homework, letting Allison talk herself hoarse and tell me everything in her own time. We'd been at it for an hour or two when there was a knock on Allison's door.

"Come in!" Allison called. The door swung open to reveal a very pretty woman in her late twenties. She had gentle curling hair that was light brown, bordering on dirty blonde. Her hazel eyes were razor sharp, just as Allison's parents were, but unlike them they also had a mischievous sparkle to them, magnified by her smirking expression. The green V-neck sweater she wore brought out the green side of her eyes, on top of accentuating her figure. She strode into the room practically seeping confidence, and smiled slyly when she saw us sitting on Allison's bed.

"Well I hoped you weren't talking to yourself," she joked. Allison beamed.

"Sadie, this is my dad's sister Kate. Kate, this is Sadie Bennet."

"Nice to meet you, Miss Argent," I greeted, holding out my hand to shake.

"Oh God," she snorted, batting my hand away as if it might be diseased. "Don't make me feel so damn old. Just Kate."

"Okay, Kate," I agreed, holding up my hands in momentary surrender. "But I shook Allison's hand when I met her too. Less respect for your elders, more creature of habit." Kate smirked as I offered my hand again.

"Hm, insistent. I like it," she observed, accepting my hand firmly. "And you must be the all-star best friend Allison's been talking about all the time." I narrowed my eyes, mimicking her smirk.

"Really?" I asked skeptically. "All the time?" Allison smacked my arm as Kate threw her head back.

"No, no you're right!" she laughed. "She was _definitely_ not talking about you last night."

"Shut up," Allison ordered playfully. "That's enough you two." Kate held up her hands in defeat, much as I had a few moments ago.

"I really am sorry about how I acted last night," she apologized sincerely. "It just didn't even occur to me that you'd look through my bags instead of asking. Are you the one who advised my favorite niece to steal a condom?" she asked, smirking at me.

"No," I replied innocently. "I specifically remember telling her 'under-shirt-over-bra,' actually. But I'm glad she decided to be prepared." I smiled sweetly, earning a shove from Allison that nearly had me tumbling off the bed.

"Oh you have got to stay for dinner," Kate chuckled, shaking her head. "Allison told me I was gonna like you, but I didn't know it was gonna be this much. Oh don't worry," she added when she saw Allison's warning look. "It's not gonna be anything like yesterday. Your parents already know Sadie's not trying to steal away your innocence, I just wanna get to know her." She winked, and I laughed while Allison covered her face with her hands. "I'll go let the 'rents know you're staying. Have fun, girls!" And without another word, she sauntered right back out into the hallway, closing the door behind her. I turned to Allison with a smile, and she grinned at me warily.

"Introducing you two is either going to be the best idea I've ever had, or the absolute worst." I laughed, shoving her shoulder once more before we returned to our homework.

Mrs. Argent popped in a little while later to inform us that dinner was ready, and we headed downstairs to the dining room. Allison and I switched the seats we had the previous visit so that she could be closer to Kate, sitting by her father's side. I could practically feel the residual embarrassment in the chair where I assumed Scott must have been sitting the night before.

Kate wound up asking me many of the same questions Mr. and Mrs. Argent had my first night over. How was I liking Beacon Hills? How was I doing in school? Did I have a lot of friends? I'd learned that she herself had lived in Beacon Hills when she was younger, and it was her actually her suggestion that had led Allison and her family to move here. She'd also asked me a couple questions about alcohol and drugs in a deep, teasing voice, assumedly to mock and generally piss off her brother. I smirked, but answered the questions anyway, using my best, overly polite voice so it sounded like I was reading prompted lines off the page. Playing along earned me bonus points with Kate, who laughed and lightly smacked Mr. Argent on the arm.

"God, you are just flying through these questions, girlie!" she complimented. "Maybe Allison should be dating you instead of Scott." She laughed heartily at her own joke while Mrs. Argent and I both released a polite chuckle. Allison and her father were both clearly fighting to look amused. "So, tell me, Sadie," Kate pushed on, leaning forward on the table. "What do you really think about Scott?" I immediately felt the tension congealing in the air, and Allison practically stopped breathing next to me. I knew that Mr. and Mrs. Argent were both listening intently, and I felt slightly nervous that I was being used as a personal reference for Scott.

"For the most part I think of him as an adorable lost puppy," I offered with a grin. Kate barked out a laugh, brandishing a finger at me.

"I know! Oh God, those eyes, right?!" All I had time to do was nod in agreement.

"For the most part?" Mr. Argent repeated, feigning disinterest. I smiled sympathetically.

"Scott's a genuinely sweet person to everyone," I reported. "He's just sort of private. From what I know, up until this year he's been a pretty shy, wallflower kind of guy. But he really practiced to get on first line, and now he's fantastic. I think he's still kind of getting used to all of the attention. But other than that, he's a really great guy with good intentions, and I know that he is crazy about Allison." Mr. Argent pursed his lips, and Allison smiled over at me in appreciation.

"Well, sounds like the kid's got the Sadie Bennet stamp of approval," Kate announced with a grin. She was clearly loving her brother's annoyance. "So what about you, Sadie? You and Allison are like supermodels. I bet you've got a line of guys waiting on you, hm?"

"Nah," I dismissed. "No one I'm interested in." Allison nearly dropped her fork in excited realization.

"Oh my God," she breathed, looking back and forth between Kate and I. "No, Sadie, you have to tell her!"

"Ooh, tell me what?" Kate gushed.

"Nothing!" I exclaimed.

"She's in denial about this guy at school," Allison informed her aunt matter-of-factly. I groaned.

"Allison! I just said he's a decent person! Can you drop it?!"

"Aw, no!" Kate whined. "Come on! I love talking about boys!"

"Well I don't," Mr. Argent interrupted. "So, so can we move onto something Dad's a little more comfortable with?" Kate's entire body moved with the force of her eye roll.

"Ugh, don't be such a stick in the mud, Chris. Your dad ever like this?" Allison patted my hand reassuringly at the slightly abrupt redirection, and my other hand caressed the dog tags.

"He never really got the chance to be," I commented calmly. "I mean, he did make the 'I'll go get my gun' joke a couple times."

"Mm, guns?" Kate inquired, perking up. "What did your dad do?"

"He was a police officer." She smirked.

"He ever take you shooting?"

"Kate," Mr. Argent said in a warning tone, but she didn't even glance at him as she waved him off.

"Yeah, once or twice," I said with a grin. Kate smiled.

"Pretty fun, huh?" I nodded, remembering how my dad had shown me how to stand, corrected my grip and taught me how to control the recoil. "You know, Allison used to be a pretty talented archer." Allison groaned in slight embarrassment, apparently not too excited to discuss what her aunt had brought up. But like Kate a minute before, I perked up.

"Oh my god, you do archery?" I asked excitedly, and she nodded timidly. "Ah, that is so awesome. I mean archery and killer gymnastics! I wish I was that cool." Everyone around the table smiled.

"You know," Kate mused, "there's still a bunch of stuff in the garage. Why don't we get something set up? Have a little training session?"

"Kate, no," Mr. Argent said immediately.

"Oh, come on, Chris," she retorted. "It's not like we're taking it to the street. Let me shuffle the cars around, set up a target, and let 'em shoot aluminum blunt tips in the garage. Just so she can try it out." Allison's father glared at her, but Kate remained completely un-phased. After a few moments, he reverted judgment to his wife.

"Do you think that might be something you're interested in, Sadie?" she asked formally. I bit my lip, trying to contain a smile.

"I mean, i-if it isn't too much trouble," I responded. "I'd love to see Allison's number one talent, and I just find archery really fascinating." Mrs. Argent smiled, but it was nothing compared to Kate's victorious smirk.

"Alright, then."

"Yes!" Kate cheered, clapping her hands. "I will go move the cars!" She excused herself and practically strutted out of the room, grabbing a pair of keys and heading to the garage. Allison and I stayed to help clean the table, bringing dishes back into the kitchen and loading the empty plates gently into the sink. By the time we entered the garage, it was void of cars, and the mechanical door was shut again. Hanging on the far wall was a very large, padded target. I could see the illuminated cage of guns that Mr. Argent had locked up for work, and on the other side of the garage Kate was rustling through some cardboard boxes.

"Okay!" she cheered when we entered. "Allison, here is your compound bow, and Sadie… Here, use this one." She handed Allison a lethal looking blue bow, with a bright green string and several stabilizing and assisting attachments, then handed me a simpler looking, more traditional black one. "Little bit bigger cause you're so tall," she explained with a wink, before pulling out a large quiver of training arrows. She waved over her shoulder, gesturing us to follow her to the wall against the house. "Okay, Allison. Show me that you still got it." Allison chuckled, gracefully pulling one of the arrows from the quiver. She paused as she notched it, turning back to look at me and biting her lip.

"Promise you won't laugh?" I grinned.

"Allison, this is like the coolest thing ever, and I'm gonna be ten thousand times worse. I swear I'm not gonna laugh." She nodded once or twice before turning back to the target. Very carefully, she positioned her body sideways and drew the bow with a refinement that proved she'd been doing this for years. She breathed deeply, remaining perfectly still for a few seconds. The suddenly she released the cord. There was a faint whizzing sound as the around flew through the air before landing in the center of the target with a dull _thunk_. My mouth fell open.

"Hey, hey baby girl!" Kate cheered. "Like riding a bike! Come on, sink a few more!" I watched in awe as Allison notched arrow after arrow, continuously smacking the target within the inner two rings. After she's shot about seven more, she lowered to bow. I mechanically began to applaud, still staring at the impaled target.

"Geez, Allison," I smirked. "Remind me not to get on your bad side." Allison flushed proudly.

"Eh, consistency's a little rusty," Kate commented. "But a little practice and you'll be back in that center ring and splitting arrows in no time. Proud of you, babe." She tousled her niece's hair and Allison giggled in response. She ran off to the target to retrieve the arrows while Kate pulled me over to where Allison had been shooting. She pulled one of the arrows from the quiver. "Okay, so this is what you're gonna be shooting. Basically a lightweight arrow without a head, just a dull aluminum tip. It's pretty hard to hurt someone with one of these." I bit my lip, staring at the tip warily and thinking over about twenty different situations where I was so terrible at archery that I got Allison, Kate or myself impaled. "Don't worry," she added, seeing my panicked look. "I mean you'd have to be like an insanely good, trained killer. You're not gonna hurt a fly." I nodded as she positioned herself in front of me, taking the bow. "Now you've used a gun, so you know how to keep a steady stance, but with archery you're facing perpendicular to the target instead of straight at it. Your dominant hand's on the string, and your other on the bow because you won't be moving the hand too much. You just want a good grip." She demonstrated with the bow as she talked me through it. "So, you take the arrow, notch it over this brass piece on the string and rest it on this part of the bow. With your right hand, I want you to make a two finger hook like this, see? And that's how you pull the string back. You have to be careful, cause if your skin grabs and twists the string, the arrow's not gonna stay tight to the bow. Okay? Then you extent this arm in front of you, and pull your right hand back up to your chin, same part every time. That's called your anchor point. And after that you just…take aim…and…release!" Kate's arrow whizzed through the air, landing on the outer edge of the second ring. She laughed. "As you can see, I'm not really an archery person. I'm a gun girl, but you get the point. Your turn."

I took a deep breath as both Kate and Allison sent me reassuring smiles. The older woman repositioned my posture once or twice, reminding me point by point what to do. I took a deep breath and released the string. I clenched my eyes shut, waiting a second before I peeled my eyes open to survey the damage. I had at least managed to hit the target, which I was grateful for. I was sure Mr. and Mrs. Argent wouldn't appreciate holes or dents in their walls, even if Kate might have gotten a kick out of it. Regardless, it hadn't been a very good hit. The end of the arrow was still wobbling a little in its place, sticking in the outermost ring all the way at the top.

"Hey!" Allison cheered with a smile. "Nice job!"

"Are you kidding?" I groaned, raising my eyebrows. "I'm as far away as I can get."

"Yeah, on your first try!" Kate praised. "A lot of people don't even hit first time round. Besides, you're pretty damned centered, just super high. Pull the string back again." I did as I was told, holding my stance even though the bow wasn't loaded. "You've got to keep your eye on the target. Not just look at it, but look only at the target. Now your mind is subconsciously gonna try and line up the arrow tip with your target, but with a bow like this, the tip's just below your line of sight. From where I'm standing over here you can see straight away you're pointing the bow up. So, forget the arrow. Just look at the center, and trust your arm to shoot, okay? Once you get the hang of it, it's muscle memory, you'll be able to do it every time. Try again."

And so I shot. And I shot. And I shot. I kept shooting and shooting, Kate and Allison giving me pro tips and encouragement after just about every go. The fingers of my right hand were aching and swelling, and my left forearm felt raw and bruised from string recoil. But I kept shooting until finally, I managed to shoot two consecutive arrows into the inner circle. Allison and Kate cheered, and I threw my arms up in the air in victory, placing the bow back down on the table behind me. Allison hugged me.

"Gee, remind me not to get on your bad side," she echoed making me chuckle. Kate walked up between us, throwing an arm around each of our shoulders as we looked at the hole-covered target.

"Damn, you see that progress? You're a natural, Sadie!" I beamed, admiring my handiwork. "Seriously, Allison, let's adopt her." The three of us laughed before beginning to clean up the garage so I could head home.

I decided that I liked Kate. Allison was right when she'd assumed we'd get along. We were both very teasing and snarky, though Kate oozed confidence and had a proud swagger to her walk that I was still faking. It was clear that she knew who she was and was proud of it; the sort of self-esteem I had yet to achieve in life, and likely wouldn't anytime soon. But I could see myself growing into someone like Kate over time. And for now, that seemed like a pretty good option.

* * *

**A/N: Phew! Okay! Sorry this one took a little longer than usual, but the next chapter is gonna be interesting. ;) Thank you SO MUCH for all the wonderful reviews I've gotten these past few days! There are very few things that make me happier than when I get an email with a long review. So, thank you very much to ScornedxRose, xxxxninaxxxx, becca1130, KageNoUta27, realityalways-getsintheway (I've taken to calling their ship name "Sadles" now, thank you for that haha), IrisstoneHPfan, LifeToDeath, and Lojo2014o! Your comments and enthusiasm are what keeps me going. Keep it up!**

**Also, don't forget to check out the visuals and tidbits I've put on my tumblr if you're bored and waiting for the next chapter. All of that info is on my profile page. Thanks so much for reading!**


	10. Chapter 10

One of the things I resented most in life was the fact that I had to organize my schedule according to everyone else's just because I didn't have my own car. Allison had spent the afternoon at our house completing some chemistry work and discussing design ideas so we could finish off her bedroom. I promised her that when the time came, I'd help her paint the walls, move furniture, and anything else she needed help with. We were still debating colors after dinner, and just when I went to drive her home, Mom snatched the van's keys from my hands, claiming she needed the car to go grocery shopping. At that point, Lydia had jumped in, offering to drive Allison home in the Beetle. So, only slightly bitter, I'd climbed into the back and let Allison take shotgun. I climbed out and hugged her goodbye, raising my eyebrows when Lydia gestured to the backseat once more.

"Um, why?" I asked. "You got an imaginary friend more important than me?"

"No," Lydia giggled. "But I do have a very corporeal boyfriend to placate." I groaned, stamping my foot on the pavement.

"Lydia!" I whined. "Come on, you let me get in the car without letting me know I'd be third wheeling your date?"

"Oh calm down!" she scolded, waving her hand and ushering me into the car. "We're just going to the video store, and then you can lock yourself in your bedroom as usual and not see us for the rest of the night." I didn't respond, just huffed and dropped my head back to hit the seat a few times before we settled into silence.

I wasn't sure if Lydia realized, but being locked in a moving car when Jackson and Lydia argued about movies was almost as bad as sitting in on their dates. At least they were usually happy on their dates, but the couple never, _ever_ agreed on what movie to rent. And the battle began the moment he stepped into the car. Jackson wanted a sports movie, Lydia wanted a romance. Jackson wanted an action film, Lydia wanted a comedy. It might have been endless, if we didn't eventual reach our destination.

"Now _Hoosiers_ is not only the best basketball movie ever," Jackson was still reasoning when we pulled up to the video store. "It is the best sports movie ever made!"

"No," Lydia replied firmly.

"It's got Gene Hackman and Dennis Hopper!"

"No."

"Lydia," he pleaded in a tone that screamed loss-of-patience, "I swear to God you're gonna like it. Come on, Sadie, back me up."

"Hell no," I replied from the back seat, inspecting my chipping nail polish. "I'm not getting dragged into the middle of this unless you guys want to rent _Remember the Titans_."

"Oh my God!" he groaned. "Would you shut the hell up about your stupid football?!"

"No," I answered smirking.

"No," Lydia echoed, before glancing at me in the rearview mirror, adding, "and no." Jackson snapped.

"I am not watching _The Notebook_ again!" he screamed. Lydia smiled patiently as if she was dealing with a petulant two-year-old who wouldn't share his toys. After a few seconds, Jackson crumpled under her gaze. He ripped off his seat belt and threw the door open, muttering profanities under his breath.

"Whoo-ch!" I mimicked, snapping my wrist in the air with a whipping motion. Jackson glared wordlessly at me. He brandished a finger at my face before slamming the door shut with as much force as he could muster and storming off to the storefront. I giggled. "How do you do that?"

"Easy," Lydia replied smugly, fixing her lipgloss in the rearview mirror and turning up the stereo. "He gets my movie, he gets laid." I chuckled, rolling my eyes as she her phone out of her purse. "Come here, I want a picture." I scooted up behind the driver's seat, grinning and pouting along with my friend as I let her snap a couple photos of us.

"Okay, okay," I said after about six. "That's enough."

"Maybe for you," she commented, still hold the phone up and fluffing her hair on camera. "But I look great today and I do not intend to waste it." She smirked as she snapped a couple more photos of herself, the camera sound repeatedly going off like an annoying tick. I shook my head with a tiny smile, aimlessly staring out the window at the empty parking lot.

In an instant it became inexplicably darker. My head whipped around, looking at the video store to see that almost all the lights inside had gone out. The ones that were still on were flickering rapidly, like you'd see in a horror film.

"Lydia," I prodded, tapping her shoulder. "What's going on?" She glanced up from her phone and snorted, looking back at the camera.

"Jackson's just being a little, immature asshole because we're not watching his sports movie. Chill, he's just trying to freak us out." As soon as she finished her sentence, I saw a burst of sparks inside the door.

"Shit," I muttered, shifting forward so my torso was leaning in the space between the front seats. "I really don't think he is…" But Lydia had completely tuned me out, humming along to the music absent-mindedly as she tried to catch a good picture in the constantly changing light source. The remaining lights were gradually dimming, making it harder and harder to see inside. I couldn't see Jackson, and soon enough I could barely make out the shape of the shelves in the dim red light of the décor bulbs. An uneasy feeling was growing in my stomach. I froze when I saw a large shadow moving through the shelves, blocking the slight red light they were reflecting. My stomach lurched, the scene of the school bus carnage flashing before my eyes. Making a split decision, I slide out the side door completely unnoticed. I left it open, cautiously inching around the car as I tried to see inside the store. "What are you doing, Jackson…?" I caught a flurry of movement from inside, as it looked like all of the shelves were knocked over one by one, like dominoes. I sped back to the car, reaching in the door and fishing around the backseat for anything that could be used as a weapon. My fingers closed around the ice scraper Lydia kept for the winter. I winced as my fingers skimmed the fragile plastic, but deciding it was better than nothing, I pulled it out anyway. "Lydia, call the police," I breathed.

"Hm?" she replied, not taking her eyes off her most recent picture. I moved away from the car, forcing myself to walk towards the store. I caught a few muffled sounds from inside the store over the music, but nothing distinguishable.

"Jackson?!" I called, but there was no response. At least, there was no response from _him_. Instead, a loud roar ripped through the air, my mouth dropped open, eyes clenching shut and prickling with tears as my fear of the animal attack was confirmed. "Jackson?!" I screamed again, fearing the worst. Again, the response I got was definitely not from Jackson.

The window in front of me shattered suddenly, sending me jumping back with a scream of surprise. Glass fragments flew everywhere, showering down on the car and skittering to my feet. But the sound was nearly lost under the screams, both of which I hardly noticed. Instead, my attention was completely devoted to the creature in front of me.

It certainly wasn't a mountain lion, that was for damn sure. For one, there was no way a mountain lion could be this large. Even crouching, ready to pounce, it was twice as tall as a cougar, and it wasn't just bigger by height. The entire creature was simply massive, a bulky torso that looked solid as stone, and strong, thick limbs that were tensed to fight. I wasn't sure how much of it was because of the waning light, but the whole thing seemed pitch black, dark, rippling skin pulled tight over the muscles with patches and tangles of coarse black hair covering nearly every inch. It had razor sharp claws at the end of what I expected to be paws, but the digits were far too long and separated to call them that. I thought back to the destroyed bus, how far apart all of the scratches had been. The creature's hands looked more human than anything. When I looked again, I realized it wasn't even leaning on all fours. Its weight was on its hind legs, one claw on the ground in front of it to steady it, and the other one hovering behind its back. It didn't look like an animal winding up to pounce. Actually, it looked more like a human would if they were squatting. However, the creature's face was face from human. The skin was lighter there, grey and rough looking, wrinkled over the bridge of its snarling snout. The nose and jaw were wet and glistening, coated in slobber and spittle that dripped from the beast's dirty, pointed fangs. But its eyes…its eyes were something I knew were going to haunt my memory for the rest of my life. There was no visible white, just an entire expanse of black, with a piercing, luminescent red iris, almost exactly the same as neon advertising lights flashing inside the store. They scanned over me, sizing up the prey, the meal before it, and observing every tense and shift of my body. My hands clenched my weapon tighter, knuckles turning pure white on the plastic ice scraper that felt more and more like a toothpick with every passing second. I knew this had to be it, the wild animal that had killed all those people. The bus driver, the brunette girl, maybe even Jackson now. God, I hoped Jackson was okay. And Lydia, still screaming from inside the Beetle. Because from the look in this…_thing's_ eyes as it growled at me menacingly, I could only assume I was not going to make it out alive.

Before I could think, the beast sprang towards me. I didn't even have breath to scream, waiting for tooth and claw. The breath was knocked out of me as one of those tree trunk arms swung and hit me in the midsection. It knocked into my stomach, my ribs, forcing out any wisp of air that might have been hiding in my lungs. But I didn't fall. I didn't collapse. Instead, I was flying, and air was flying past me as I was thrown aside like a rag doll.

_Bang!_ My hip first, then my arm, and finally head, all slamming into Lydia's car within a nanosecond of each other. I crumpled to the ground, but I couldn't feel myself hit the pavement. I felt as if I was still floating. The only thing I was aware of was my body pulsing, every inch of me pounding repeatedly, not exactly painful, just strange and frankly annoying. I didn't like it. It echoed in my ear, like…like I was swimming in Lydia's pool and people were continuously jumping in at even intervals, blocking out all other sounds. Everything had gone black, but slowly everything was getting lighter again, becoming tinged red. My heart throbbed in fear, imagining the bright, red eyes gleaming down on me, preparing to rip my throat out. The lurch in my stomach had pushed my body into motion. As the darkness slowly faded, I could feel myself being dragged into awareness. It started with a high-pitched noise, first a pinprick in the swelling silence and growing louder and louder, until I was terrified my ears would begin to bleed too.

"Sadie! Sadie! Oh my God, please wake up! Sadie!" It was Lydia. It had to be. There was no one else I knew who screamed as loudly and high as that. I tried and failed to open my mouth, taste returning to me and alerting me to the presence of blood. My body was beginning to tingle, and then all at once I was slammed with a wall of pain. My face screwed up, and I instantly regretted it. I let out a muffled groan, cheek pressed against the asphalt of the parking lot. "Sadie?! Oh my God, thank God! Sadie! Oh please be okay!" I was conscious enough now to hear her voice shake, feel her violently shaky hands pushing my hair back and holding my hands. She'd gotten out of the car and was kneeling next to me, sobbing next to my head.

"Shh," I let out shakily, trying to open my eyes. Lydia gasped, nearly choking herself.

"I'm sorry!" she coughed through the tears, before continuing in a hush. "Sadie, are you alright? Oh my God, y-you're—you're still b-bleeding! Th-there's so much…" Her fingers timidly returned to my forehead, gently brushing blood away from my eyes.

"Head—Head wounds bleed a lot," I muttered blearily, trying to shift myself a little. "Police?"

"I-I called them!" she informed me dutifully. "I told them we were here and you were hurt and I don't know what happened and-!"

"Jackson?" I winced. Lydia was nearly sobbing again.

"I don't—I don't know!" she cried. "I did—I d-didn't see him I-I don't know what happened! I don't know where he is or if he's okay or-or-!"

"Okay, okay," I tried to hush her. "Help me up."

"N-no!" She replied, teary eyes going wide. "No! No, you are not moving!"

"Lydia!" I demanded, a little more forcefully this time. "Help me up." I rolled onto my left side with a groan, trying to avoid jostling the right arm I'd slammed into the car. Lydia reluctantly scooped me up, looping one arm under each of my own and pulling me to my feet slowly. I immediately shifted my weight forward, grabbing at the Beetle for all I was worth as the world spun around me. Black spots dotted my vision and I felt woozy.

"Woah, woah, Sadie?!"

"Yeah," I winced. "Hold on." I took a couple deep breaths, my hands on the car and Lydia's arms around me the only things keeping my legs from buckling. My head was still throbbing, and I was still dizzy, but after a minute or two I had collected myself. "Okay," I grunted, and Lydia moved to wrap my left arm around her shoulders. She held my left hand with her own, and wrapped her right arm around my waist to keep me steady. Holding my right arm close to my chest and keeping most of my weight on my left leg, Lydia and I slowly made our way to the front door of the video store. We paused at the entrance so she could push the door open and then crept quietly inside.

"J-Jackson…?" Lydia called out, her voice still watery.

"Lydia!" Jackson's response came immediately from father in the store. We looked ahead, and in the flickering lights I could just make out Jackson on the floor, legs pinned under one of the fallen shelving units.

"Jackson!" she cried, pulling me along as fast as I could go so she could get to her boyfriend.

"Lydia, where is it?! Are you okay?!"

"Th-The…the…It's gone," Lydia replied as we approached. Jackson pushed up on his arms, using all his strength to try and pull himself forward, but he couldn't. When he'd given up again, he laid his chest back on the ground, head now facing us. That was when he caught sight of me.

"Shit! Sadie, are you okay?!"

"I look okay to you Jackass Whittemore?" I snapped, limping along.

"What the hell happened?"

"Threw me against a car," I groaned, relinquishing Lydia so I could stumble into the shelving unit across the isle from Jackson. I leaned my back against it, taking deep breaths and attempting to convince myself I was on solid ground and not a Tilt-a-Whirl. I lifted my left hand, fingers grazing across my face. I gently prodded the gash on the right side of my forehead. I hissed in pain, retracting my fingers to find them painted red. I could feel the blood dripping down the right side of my face, and I was fairly certain I had another cut on my right cheek from where I'd fallen on the pavement.

"Shit," Jackson hissed, redoubling his efforts to get out from under the shelf. "Lydia! Lyd, you gotta help me." She nodded, standing up from where she'd knelt next to his head and moving to the shelf. Instead of trying to move straight forward, Jackson tried to scoot to the left, getting his body as close as he could to the wider part of the space. Lydia tried as hard as she could to lift the shelf, even just an inch, and after a few minutes of groaning and cursing, Jackson managed to escape. As soon as he did, he jumped up, stretching his legs and throwing his arms around Lydia. She clutched at his jacket, crying silently and burying her face into his collar. He held her close, muttering quietly for a few minutes. I tried my hardest not to interrupt them, concentrating on my deep breathing so that I didn't pass out again. Finally, the sound of sirens broke the couple apart. "Ugh, thank God," Jackson praised, gently pulling away from Lydia. He glanced over, spotting me gripping the shelf for dear life. "Shit, Sadie, come here."

"No offense, Jackson," I groaned, "but I'm not really in the mood for a touchy-feely moment."

"Sadie," he pleaded, for once not annoyed by my sass or stubbornness. "We've got to get out of here. The clerk was dead when I came and we've gotta get you to an ambulance." He walked over to my left side, noticing how my right arm was still pulled to my chest. "Come here," he repeated, pulling my hand off the shelf and pulling it up to his shoulder.

"I can do it myself," I huffed.

"Sadie, you can barely walk," he begged. "Now shut the hell up and let me help." Before I could really figure out what I was agreeing to, Jackson had wrapped my left arm around his broad shoulders and scooped me up bridal style. I wanted to protest, but losing the feeling of the ground on my feet disoriented me, and I was sent into another dizzy spell. I groaned, leaning the uninjured side of my head against his shoulder. Despite the pain it caused me, I scrunched my eyes shut, trying to block out the flashing red and blue lights that had materialized in front of the building. I vaguely heard Jackson mutter something along the lines of, "About time. Come on, Lydia," before he was moving forward. I heard the clamor, felt the cold breeze of the air as we stepped outside. It seemed like three different people were trying to talk to us at once, pelting us with questions the moment we exited the store. Jackson went into hostile, demanding mode, and I could literally feel the vibrations in his chest as he yelled for everyone to shut up and get me a medic, and he'd tell everyone what happened so he could get home. I didn't hear a peep from Lydia. Now that Jackson and I were both clearly alive, she seemed to have retreated into herself, the shock of the attack finally sinking in.

My eyes fluttered open as I was passed to a frantic medic who seemed less gentle than Jackson. I was rushed into the back of an ambulance, forced to lie down on a stretcher inside while the first responders ran around my head, prodding at my bruises, pressing at my cuts and shining a bright flashlight into my eyes at irregular intervals. They asked me stupid questions like "when is your birthday?" and "what's your middle name?" assumedly to keep me awake, and to test whether or not I had a concussion. Luckily enough, none of the cuts I'd sustained from being bashed into the car and then slamming into the ground needed stitches. Still, the open wounds on my face stung as they were cleaned and set in place to heal with small butterfly bandages. There was nothing anyone could do about the bruises, except put some ice on them and tell me to take it easy. I hadn't broken anything, strangely enough. My arm, hip and ribs were all perfectly intact. Well, my arm wasn't perfect. They had to put it in a sling, a well-made black one with strong Velcro that kept my arm glued to my chest. I cursed under my breath as I thought about wearing it for the next week. Why couldn't the damn thing have ruined my other arm, the one I didn't need for eating, writing, and everyday life?

As the medics reviewed my condition from head to toe, I listened to Jackson tell his story to the officers two or three times. He'd stormed into the rental store, started looking around the first few shelves, and called out in the semi-dark store for assistance finding _The Notebook_. Then he'd seen the feet sticking out at the end of the aisle. He'd walked over to find the clerk already dead, slumped against the shelving, eyes wide and vacant and throat slashed. That's when he'd heard the animal growl and hidden behind a shelf. Whatever the animal had tried to do next had resulted in all the shelves being knocked over, pinning Jackson to the floor in the process. He'd explained cautiously that the sound of the commotion must have scared the thing off, because before he could recover, he'd heard glass shattering as the thing jumped out the window. A few minutes later, Lydia and I had limped into the store. He repeatedly explained that all he knew about what had happened to me was that I'd been thrown into the car, as no one wanted to ask me while I was being examined. I heard his tone get harsher and harsher until he was literally spitting, "Look! I was squashed under a pile of shelves by a dead body! I have no fucking clue what the hell happened to her!"

But even in my slightly dazed state I knew Jackson wasn't telling the whole truth. The way he'd skittered around talking about the animal, the way he said he hadn't seen it but only heard it, the way he'd paused before assuming it'd been scared off by the avalanche of DVDs. I knew that Jackson had seen more than he was letting on and he either didn't want the police to know what he saw or, much more likely, didn't want to believe what he saw himself.

Lydia still hadn't spoken. She was perched delicately at the mouth of the ambulance, looking down into her lap where she held one of Jackson's hands. She'd stopped looking behind her to check on me a while ago, and was now sitting frozen in complete silence. I wasn't sure how much of the creature she'd seen. Staring down the thing had felt like ages to me, but I may have only been a second or two. Definitely enough time for Lydia to finish screaming from the suddenly shattering glass and glance over before the monster threw me into her car. He silence was certainly unnerving. I don't think I'd gone so long in the same room with her without hearing her speak before.

"Well," the medic finishing off my sling started. "You got off easy. Amazingly enough, no concussion, and there shouldn't be any scarring either. Just keep the arm in the sling for a week or so and you'll be back in action."

"So that means back to school tomorrow?" I asked quietly, and the woman sitting opposite me giggled.

"Sense of humor's a good sign. I mean, no one would blame you for taking a day or two off from shock, but physically you could go back tomorrow, yeah. The most I can do is get you out of gym."

"I'll take what I can get," I muttered, trying to smile. "Thanks." The woman patted me kindly on the shoulder and I walked towards the end of the ambulance where Jackson and Lydia were shooing away another medical officer.

"Why the hell can't I just go home?!" Jackson yelled at another officer as he approached. "I'm fine!"

"I hear ya," the new man said calmly. "But the EMT says you hit your head pretty hard. They just want to make sure you don't have a concussion." I silently thought that this made perfect sense. I'd received the immediate medical attention because of my worse condition, so no one had really had time to examine Jackson or Lydia yet. As they had less wounds than I did, it would even take that long. But Jackson was hearing none of it.

"What part of 'I'm fine' are you having a problem grasping? Sadie hit her head twice as hard and she's fine!" he ground out, throwing an arm back to gesture to me. I glared at him. No one had actually told him that I was okay yet. He was just choosing to decide for me so that he could leave the premises. More than that, his incessant yelling and hostility was way past _starting_ to get on my nerves, not just because of my almost-concussion. I saw the officer glance back to where I stood fuming in the ambulance. "Okay? I wanna go home!"

"And I understand that," he replied soothingly, but Jackson cut him off, now completely pulled away from Lydia. I walked up behind her, letting my leg touch her shoulder to try and comfort her with my presence without having to sit down.

"No, you don't understand!" Jackson bellowed, "which kind of blows my mind since it should be a pretty basic concept to grasp for a minimum-wage rent-a-cop like you! Okay?! Now I wanna go home!"

Maybe it was my pounding headache. Maybe it was the stress from the accident. Maybe I had just finally had it with all of Jackson's self-entitled bullshit. All I knew is that his jab about police officers had been the last straw before I snapped.

"Jackson, shut the fuck up!" I screeched, causing almost everyone at the scene to stop in their tracks to look at me. The shrill scream echoed around the metal interior of the ambulance, and even Lydia jumped a bit, turning to look up at me. "In case you're too stupid to notice, there are bigger things going on right now! A man is dead, and there is a murderous wild _thing_ on the loose! I think you can stand to lose a few hours of your goddamn beauty sleep! Holy shit! You'd think the fucking lacrosse captain would be able to keep himself from name calling long enough to check that he was in peak physical condition, but apparently you're not even mature enough to only think about your reputation! So do us all a favor and apologize, shut up, sit down and cooperate for like two seconds so you can get the hell out of here!"

By the end of my speech, my left hand was glued to my head as I winced. Screaming had strained my face and made me flush, obviously not optimal conditions for facial abrasions and borderline-concussions. The investigators quickly moved back to their duties as two or three EMT's swarmed toward me. Even as they eased me into a sitting position and checked my head again, I could feel all the gazes on me. Lydia was simply staring at me with a blank face, her eyes glazed over as if she had instinctively turned to me, but wasn't actually seeing me. The elder officer was warily watching me with surprise and concern, and Jackson looked as if I had just slapped him in the face. His expression kept flickering from complete and utter shock, perhaps even a little worry, to a look of anger for the officers and because I had insulted him. His jaw would sporadically clench and then return to its slack, awed position. Just as the medics returned with an icepack for my side and a cold cloth for my face, another shout rang out.

"Oh whoa, is that a dead body?!" I turned to the left to see that the clerk's corpse was being wheeled out of the video store on a gurney. I was thankful for the sheet covering most of his body. I wasn't sure I could handle any more trauma tonight.

"Everybody back up. Back up," the officer instructed softly, pushing the spectators back and easing Jackson towards the ambulance. Reluctantly, he climbed in, slamming himself angrily next to me on the bench. After a few seconds though, some of the anger had dissipated.

"You okay?" he asked tightly. I huffed.

"Well you already decided that I was, apparently. But yeah, I'll survive, thanks for pretending to care."

"Sadie, shut up," he sighed. "Of course I care. I just want to get the hell out of here."

"Then maybe you should try and cooperate once in a while, instead of always trying to be the big man calling the shots." Jackson let his head fall back to rest on the ambulance wall, rolling his eyes. "They're police officers, Jackson," I reprimanded. "You're not the boss of them. And you should really apologize."

"Whatever," he mumbled.

After I had been officially released again, this time with pain medication, and it had been confirmed both Lydia and Jackson did not have concussions, we moved back towards the mouth of the ambulance where the officer was waiting. He was calm, but more than anything he looked tired. His face was softly lined under his short, graying brown hair, and his green eyes were still brimming with concern for the three stupid, unfortunate kids in front of him. As he turned towards us, I noticed the glint of his badge on his jacket. Not just an officer, but the sheriff. Way to go, Jackson.

"So, I know you kids want to get home, but I still have to ask a couple questions about what happened," the sheriff said as we approached. He turned his attention to me and gently asked, "Miss, I know you've been through a lot tonight, but maybe you could stick around so we could get your side of the story while your friends go home?" I nodded, slightly disappointed that I couldn't go to bed just yet, but understanding.

"Sure. That's fine, Sheriff." As I answered, Lydia's hand shot out to grab my wrist, looking at me fearfully with wide eyes. I tried to smile, pulling her into a hug. "I'm fine, Lyd," I assured her. "I'm gonna be okay. But these officers have to know what happened so they can get this thing under control. Go with Jackson, he'll take you home."

"I-I don't want to leave you," she muttered, and I gripped her tighter with my left arm.

"I'll be fine. When I get home, I'll come stay in your room, okay?" Lydia nodded into my shoulder and pulled away.

"You sure?" Jackson asked, glancing between the sheriff and I as if he were dangerous or something.

"Yeah, get out of here."

"I'll make sure she gets home safe," the sheriff assured him. Jackson nodded, pursing his lips.

"Fine. Come on, Lydia." He wrapped his arm around the shaken girl and led her away towards the Beetle. I could already feel the anxiety welling up in my chest as they walked away from me, leaving me alone at a crime scene where I wasn't even sure what had really happened myself. Jackson got in the driver's seat, and in a minute, they were gone. The sheriff sighed and turned back to me.

"I am sorry," he repeated firmly. "We'll try and get you out of here as soon as possible." I nodded, wrapping my left arm across my waist at an attempt for security. "I'm Sheriff Stilinski," he introduced, sticking out his hand and quickly switching to the left one when he noticed my arm was in a sling.

"Stil-? Oh, yeah. H-Hi, Sadie Bennet," I stammered, suddenly remembering that mom had mentioned Stiles's father was the sheriff. I glanced over at the cruiser to see the boy sitting there himself, mouth hanging open slightly as he watched his father and I intently. He tried to smile when I looked over, but instead it wound up looking like a grimace. Sheriff Stilinski took my hand with a warm smile, and I could suddenly see the resemblance.

"Now, I know you wanna go home quickly, but take your time," he instructed soothingly. "I know you've been through an ordeal and it might not be easy trying to go through it again."

"I'll be fine," I assured him, nodding as he led me a little bit away from the ambulance's flashing lights, to a quieter part of the parking lot. When we stopped, a thought occurred to me. "Actually," I started. "If I uh…fake a mental breakdown, do you think Stiles could come over here?"

"What?" the sheriff asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise. "Oh, well uh…"

"I'm gonna tell him anyway," I reasoned, "and it would be a lot easier to talk about it if I felt like I was talking to my friend and his dad, instead of being interrogated by the sheriff." The man considered that for a moment, before tilting his head to the side in consent.

"Of course," he agreed, and I mumbled my thanks as we turned to look at the cruiser a couple of yards away. Stiles had remained in the car, under what I assumed was his father's orders, but he was half out of the chair, pressed uncomfortably against the glass as he tried to watch us and find out what was going on from a distance. The sheriff sighed, simply putting his hands on his hips and jerking his head to call him. In an instant, Stiles was tripping out of the car. He fell over himself in his haste as he tried to run to us, then doubled back to snatch something from the car. Then, less than gracefully, he sprinted toward us.

"Sadie! S-Sadie, are you okay? What happened? I-Is Lydia okay? You don't look okay. Are you okay?!" he gushed, grabbing my shoulders with a crumpled take out bag in one hand.

"Yeah, yeah," I assured him quietly. "I'm fine."

"Do you need anything? Do—Do you want a curly fry?"

"What?" I asked, giggling quietly. He smiled, pulling a container of fries from the bag and offering them to me. "Uh…sure," I muttered, grabbing one. I nibbled on the end before turning to the sheriff. "Oh, um…do you mind?" I asked him. He raised his eyebrows in mild surprise and confusion, and I glanced back at Stiles before muttering. "It's just um…I've been told you're not allowed to have them…" I immediately felt stupid. It was embarrassing that I could even remember that stupid little fact, Stiles had mentioned, let alone to bring it up in conversation. Stiles was gaping at me, but Mr. Stilinski chuckled.

"No, no. Go ahead," he encouraged me. "Someone might as well enjoy them." I smiled softly, returning to eating the fries.

"So," Stiles piped at a pointed look from his father. "What happened?" I glanced cautiously between the two of them and took a deep breath. I closed my eyes for a moment before focusing on the fidgety brown-eyed boy in front of me.

"Lydia managed to trick me into going with her to pick up Jackson," I began. "They were coming here to pick out a movie for their date night or whatever." I waited tentatively, wishing I didn't have to talk about Jackson and Lydia's relationship in front of Stiles. He waved off my hesitation, nodding for me to go on with a sad smile. "Well, they were fighting the whole way here before Lydia finally convinced him to go get _The Notebook_, and we stayed in the car. We were just playing around taking pictures on her phone for a while before the lights cut in the store. So I looked up and saw them flickering and sparking, but Lydia thought Jackson was just playing a prank cause he was mad they weren't watching his movie. So she was just playing the phone and I got out of the car to check on him. It was kind of dark, so I couldn't see much in there from where I was, but then I thought I saw the shelves falling over, which I guess they did, but I went to grab the uh—the ice scraper thing from the car, you know, just in case, and I told Lyd to call the police. I was just about to head inside to find out what was happening when the window shattered and…"

"And what?" Stiles asked gently, leaning toward me.

"J-Jackson said the noise from the shelves must have scared it off," I explained rapidly. "I mean he heard it and hid after he found the body, and then it must have tried to attack him and knocked everything over and gotten spooked because the next thing I knew it was jumping through the window at me."

"D-Did you see it?!" Stiles demanded frantically, and his tone made me look at him. I could see the panic in his eyes, the concern, the worry, the fear. But it wasn't because he thought I'd been hurt. He was urgently asking me if I had seen it. I knew that thing could not be a mountain lion, and I was pretty sure Stiles knew too. He wanted to know if I knew what I'd seen, if I was smart enough to realize that there was something else going on here besides animal attacks. And I wanted to tell him that I did. I wanted to scream at that pale face and demand answers, demand to know what the hell was going on and why he was lying about it. But I knew I couldn't. If Stiles and Scott knew what was really causing the attacks and didn't come forward with the information, then they were lying for a reason. It was dangerous, something no one was supposed to know about, or maybe something that would get them in trouble. So as much as I desperately wanted to shake his shoulders until he told me everything he knew, all I could do was stare into those coffee brown eyes and will him to realize that I knew something was going on. I shook my head.

"Not really," I lied softly. "Everything happened so fast. B-But when it burst through the window it kinda just ran around and ran headlong into me I guess. I don't have any claw marks, but I couldn't really see it because it was dark and I was screaming and it was so quick and next thing I know I'm smacking into the car and Lydia's waking me up on the ground." Stiles looked paler than usual as he stared at me, his father looking on with worry.

"And you don't remember anything about it?" the sheriff asked. "Do you know what it was?" I shared a long look with Stiles before answering.

"A mountain lion," I lied. "A-At least I think it was. I know it was big. Bigger than any mountain lion I've ever seen, but I don't know what else it could have been. I don't think it's just wild, it might be sick. I mean, it was huge, and I don't know why it didn't just pounce on me rather than run into me. Not that I'm complaining." Sheriff Stilinski sighed, and I saw Stiles relax just the slightest bit.

"Sick, okay," the sheriff muttered. "I guess I'll have to look into what might make a cougar do that. What was the EMT's final verdict?"

"Well, I'm battered and bruised, but nothing's broken and I don't have a concussion. They gave me some pain medication, but besides that they just told me to take it easy and leave my arm in the sling for a week. No idea what I'm doing about schoolwork."

"You could dictate to me," Stiles offered with a grin as I took another fry.

"Psh, with your handwriting?" I scoffed. "No way, Stilinski." He pretended to be offended, snatching the container of curly fries back from me. I chuckled half-heartedly and turned to his dad. "I don't mean to be pushy but… Do you think it'd be alright if I went home now?"

"Yeah," the sheriff sighed. "Yeah, I'll take you home. Just give me a minute to clear things with the officers." He rested a hand on my shoulder momentarily. "Glad you're okay, Sadie." Then he walked away, back towards the crime scene. I turned back to Stiles, who was watching me closely.

"You sure you're gonna be okay?" he asked softly. I nodded with a slight smile, before wincing at the motion.

"Yeah. Get home, get some sleep and some pain medication in me. I'll be fine." He smiled.

"Yeah, good. Don't… Don't do that again." I raised my eyebrows.

"I'll try not to make a habit of it." I watched him as he fiddled with the bag in his hands, not meeting my gaze. "Just so you know," I added abruptly, "the only reason I'm not currently interrogating you is because I'm tired and I'm in pain. Don't expect the same kindness tomorrow." Stiles looked up at me, not necessarily in surprise or alarm, but wearing a weak mask of confusion. The moment he saw my conviction, the mask fell away. He looked resigned and a little upset. Instead of lying again, he chose to ignore the statement completely.

"Come on, we should get in the car." He led the way to the cruiser, gentlemanly enough to open the back door for me.

"No," Sheriff Stilinski said flatly before I could get in.

"What?" Stiles asked.

"You're sitting in the back," his father informed him. Stiles held his arms up, affronted.

"What? Why?!"

"Because Sadie is a young lady and recent victim, and you're a delinquent," he explained. "Back seat. Now." I smirked, causing Stiles to glare at me as he angrily climbed into the back seat, slamming the door behind him. Gracefully as I could, I took my place in the front seat, having to twist to pull the door shut. I looked over my shoulder to see Stiles slumped in the back.

"Comfy?" I asked through the safety grate. He glared.

"Ha, ha. Yeah, keep laughing, Bennet."

"Oh, I intend to," I assured him with a sweet smile, turning back to the front. I briefly gave Sheriff Stilinski directions to the house before we set off on the road.

"So you're living with Lydia Martin and her mother, right?" the sheriff clarified.

"Yeah," I replied. "Our moms have been friends since high school."

"And how long have you been living here?"

"My mom and I moved in at the beginning of the summer," I replied, biting my lip and turning to look out the window.

"That's nice. How are you liking Beacon Hills?"

I took a moment to appreciate Mr. Stilinski's careful consideration before answering. Much like Stiles, he'd easily sensed that parents, specifically my father, would be a bad topic, and swiftly glided right past it. I doubted he knew about my father's death. Maybe Stiles had warned him, but given Stiles's same habit of avoiding talking about parents in the plural, I assumed that the talent came from personal experience. Instead of talking about absent parents, Mr. Stilinski asked me about school, what I liked to do in my spare time, and how I'd become friends with Stiles. He even complimented me on the sign I'd made for Scott at the first game, something he and Melissa McCall, Scott's mother, had both appreciated immensely.

"Thank you for the ride home, Sheriff Stilinski," I said as we pulled up to my house. It was late, but the lights were still on inside as I assumed everyone was waiting up for me.

"No problem at all, Sadie," he replied casually. "I'm sorry it had to be in the cruiser. Not exactly the best ride in town."

"It's alright," I assured him with a smile. "It's been a while since I've gotten to ride in a police cruiser."

"Telling me you've got a criminal record?" Mr. Stilinski asked, though clearly not worried at all.

"No, no," I chuckled. "I uh…my dad used to take me around…" The sheriff smiled softly, and Stiles sat up in the back, fingers poking through the grate.

"You never told me your dad was police," he said, eyes wide. His tone wasn't harsh at all, not accusatory or even excited. He just seemed pleasantly surprised that I'd voluntarily revealed information about a topic he dared not breach, information he could relate to since his dad was the sheriff.

"I know," I answered simply, smiling sadly. After a moment, I cleared my throat. "Well, goodnight." I reached for the door handle, but Stiles spoke up again.

"Oh, I got it!" he chirped, going to open the door for me. Unfortunately, his door wouldn't open. He shook the door handle violently, desperately attempting to get out. I snickered while Sheriff Stilinski just rolled his eyes with a small smile.

"Oh come on, Stiles," I chuckled. "You can't just open the back door to a cop car from the inside. You should know that." Stiles pouted, slumping back in his seat. "I got it." I carefully climbed out of the car, leaving the passenger door open as I let Stiles out of the back.

"Thanks," he grumbled, and I shook my head. I rested my hand on top of the car, poking my head back inside.

"Goodnight, Sheriff Stilinski. Thanks again," I bid politely.

"My pleasure," he responded. "Nice meeting you, Sadie. I'm sorry it had to be under these circumstances." I nodded in understanding, remembering to keep it slow this time so I didn't make my head ache. "It seems like a pretty cut-and-dry animal attack, but I might have to call you if anymore questions come up."

"That's fine," I assured him.

"Okay, well get some rest. If you need anything, let Stiles or me know."

"Will do. Thank you, sir," I replied, giving him a mock salute. He smiled.

"Goodnight, Sadie." I stood up, turning to look at Stiles who was still standing in front of me, watching me carefully.

"You sure you're gonna be okay?" he asked yet again, looking at me earnestly. I opened my mouth to assure him that'd I'd be fine, but looking at those coppery eyes, I found myself reconsidering my answer. I thought about the anxiety that was tying my stomach in knots, not just since the attack, but since I'd seen Scott and Stiles worrying about Derek. I thought about the panic I felt in the moments before the creature had attacked me, the chill that had set over me when I realized that it had killed three people and I though I was next. I thought about those glowing red eyes, and the sharp teeth and black figure that did not belong to a mountain lion. I thought about how Stiles had asked me if I'd seen it, and how I'd snapped and screamed at Jackson for being himself like I'd never screamed before. I thought about my best friend's tears when I was on the ground, her silent, terrified face as Jackson dragged her to the car. Would I be okay?

"I'm gonna try," I answered finally. "After the pain medication kicks in, I should fall asleep pretty fast." I silently worried that being asleep would be worse, a time where my brain could fill in the gaps of what could have happened to me if I hadn't been pushed into the car, if I had died instead.

"Well, if you need me," Stiles offered a tad hoarsely. "Um…if you, uh, need anything, you can text me. Or uh, call me, just ah…let me know." I smiled at him and he fiddled with the cuffs of his sleeves.

"Thanks, Stiles. I will." The sincerity in my voice made him look up at me. His eyes traveled down the right side of my body, from the split skin on my temple down to my bruised right hip. Then, hesitantly, he took a step forward and pulled me into a hug.

It was quickly initiated and unexpected, but extremely gentle. He seemed hyperaware of my arm in the sling between us, trying to be comforting without holding me so close that it would be squashed. His left arm wrapped down by my waist, away from the more severe bruises on my arm and hips, while his right arm stayed up by my shoulder. After barely a moment of shock, I wrapped my good arm up behind his back too. I took a deep breath and tried to recollect my thoughts. I'd already put myself in a bad spot by thinking about all the terribly high emotions I'd been having for the last few weeks, and left myself vulnerable by admitting I wasn't sure if I was going to be okay. To be okay, I needed to be calm and collected, a state that was hard to achieve when my face was pressed into Stiles's jacket, which smelt like some sort of cheap but nice cologne and curly fries. I vaguely thought I heard him mutter some form of "I'm sorry" on my left, his chin resting on my shoulder. But before I could respond, he'd pulled away.

"You know no one would blame you for skipping class tomorrow."

"I know," I replied, taking a deep breath of the cold night air. It was refreshing, but a lot less comforting than Stiles's clothing. "But I have to." I gave him a pointed look. "I'll talk to you at school tomorrow."

"Well, uh, goodnight, Sadie," he dismissed, avoiding my gaze. I'd take two steps toward the house before he called me back. "Sadie! Wait, um…" He was hanging on the top of the door, his body half inside the car before he thought of what he wanted to ask me. "Do you think you could, uh text me? About you know…Lydia?" I sighed, smiling softly.

"Yeah. I'll let you know how she's doing." Stiles nodded, looking relieved. "Night, Stilinski."

"Night, Bennet."

Stiles climbed back into the cruiser with his dad, and I waved at them before walking into the house. As soon as the door closed, I was accosted by my mother and Miss Eleanor, who both hugged me frantically and squeaked out one question after another. They dragged me into the living room, shoving a glass of water into my hand and offering me food. Apparently, Lydia had still been pretty unresponsive when she got home. All she had said was that she was fine, and I was answering the police's questions at the video store before locking herself in her room. They hadn't heard from her since. That meant that I spent nearly another hour in the living room, telling the story not once, not twice, but three times so that our mothers knew what happened to Lydia, Jackson and me. Well, almost everything. I'd given them the version of events we'd given to the police; a startled, sick mountain lion that'd knocked me into a car. But they were too worried to be skeptical. Finally, I managed to convince them that my pain medication was making me drowsy, and they let me go upstairs. I changed into a T-shirt and pajama shorts, grabbing my phone before I walked down the hall to Lydia's room. I knocked on the door softly, assuming that she'd already be asleep. When there was no response, I eased the door open, popping my head inside and cautiously calling out her name.

As soon as her name left my lips, and she realized it was me, Lydia sat upright. She ran over to me in her blue nightgown and hugged me, completely silent but eyes rimmed red. I tried gently to quiet her, easing the door shut behind me before hugging her as best I could. The pain medication had only just started to kick in though, and I had to pry myself away from her. She'd been holding so tightly my arm was squashed in the sling, sending shooting pains up to my shoulder. I momentarily thought back to the much gentler hug with Stiles.

Slowly, I pulled Lydia back to her bed, tucking her in before getting in on the other side. She listened as I recounted telling the story to Sheriff Stilinski. At least, I think she was listening. She was on her side facing me, watching me intently, but her eyes still had that semi-glazed look to them, both from shock and exhaustion. Before we went to bed, I grabbed my phone from the nightstand, opening a text to Stiles.

_"Lydia's still not talking, but she's responding to me at least. I'm staying with her tonight, just to make sure she'll still be okay. Talk to you tomorrow."_

Once I had received his response of, _"Thanks, Sadie. Feel better," _I tucked my phone under my pillow and rolled onto my left side, facing Lydia.

"Night, Lydia. I'm right here if you need anything." She nodded into her pillow.

"Goodnight, Sadie," she mumbled, closing her eyes. She shifted her hand around the mattress until she found my uninjured left hand, and brought it up between us so she could hold it. I smiled softly, squeezing her hand a bit to reassure her that I wasn't leaving. "Sadie?" she asked, a few minutes of silence later. "What was it?" I bit my lip, squeezing her hand to comfort myself this time.

"I don't know, Lyd. I don't know."

* * *

**A/N: Ahhhh! I told you all things were about to get real! I hope you guys enjoyed it. I really loved writing this chapter, just so exciting! And wow, I just have to say thank you for the favorites, followers, and reviews! I love hearing what you guys think, and I've actually gotten a few ideas that made me rethink where the plot is going a little bit. Thank you to xxxxninaxxxx, Lojo2014o, ScornedxRose, becca1130, bbymojo, LifeToDeath, realityalways-getsintheway, kaljara (god what a great review thank you so much), DetectiveKateTodd, and my three guest reviewers! So please, please, please, let me know what you like, think, and what you're excited for. It makes all the difference and keeps me writing!**

**There wasn't a lot of Stiles in this chapter, but I tried to lay on some Sadles for you guys. But don't worry. As you can imagine, there is more to come. Also so interactions with other important characters who some people feel I've been neglecting. Don't worry everyone! Derek is on his way soon! (There's actually a snippet of a scene from the next chapter on my tumblr page if you want to check it out!) As for Sadie herself, as "Isaac fan" brought up, please imagine her however you want. Dylan O'Brien is 5'11", and Tyler Posey is 5'10", so I didn't really write Sadie as freakishly tall, just eye-level. Feel free to imagine it from a shorter point of view if it's easier, just as I find it easier to write from the point of view of a tall person. It shouldn't change the story at all.**

**Thank you all so much for reading, and please keep the interest and interaction up!**

**-Brittney**

****EDIT PS: Guest reviewers especially have been asking me how long it takes me to update. Usually it's anywhere between 2 to 4 days, so I will post the next one on Tuesday. Thanks for asking!**


	11. Chapter 11

The next morning, in true Lydia Martin fashion, Lydia woke me up before my alarm clock could. That is, if you can call four A.M. "the next morning" and take "woke me up" to mean scared me awake by screaming at the top of her lungs.

I sprang up in bed, squawking and flailing as I tried to figure out why I'd suddenly been snatched from sleep. As I glanced around the room, I found no immediate danger, no strangers lurking in the corners, and best of all, no red eyes peering at me from the shadows. There was only Lydia, thrashing next to me as she continued to let out an earsplitting screech and dangerously close to strangling herself with her own sheets. I went to push myself up onto my knees, momentarily forgetting that my right arm was completely useless. As a result, I ended up wobbling and falling next to her. Her flailing knee collided with my back, causing me to squeak in pain, tired and frustrated tears springing up in my eyes.

"Lydia!" I called, trying to push myself up again. "Lydia!" My left hand worked wildly to catch one of her waving arms. When I finally snatched her right one, I pulled on it, anchoring it close to my chest. "Lydia, wake up! Wake up!" Lydia sprang up from her pillow, tears streaming down her face and breathing heavily. Her head whipped back and forth, until she found me. When she realized that whatever terror she was experiencing had only been a dream, she sagged, slumping forward and resting her head on my shoulder. She wrapped her arms around my waist, cowering as she sobbed into my chest. I gently tried to hush her, sitting down and leaning my back against the headboard, and soothingly stroking her back with my good hand. A few seconds later, my mother and Miss Eleanor burst into the room. Lydia's mother tried to take her daughter from me, but Lydia wouldn't let go. She snuggled closer to my side, whimpering about black fur, red eyes and how she was so afraid I was going to die.

"Hey, it's okay, Lydia," I consoled her, resting my head on hers as our mothers watched. "I'm right here. Everything's gonna be fine." I kept repeating the phrase in different variations for the next half an hour while Lydia cried. My mother had come to sit at my side for a bit while Miss Eleanor ducked out. She returned twenty minutes later with a bottle of pills for Lydia's nerves. Judging by the bottle and the extreme child-safety lock top, it seemed like some serious medication, but she gave me three whole pills anyway. I finally managed to convince Lydia to take them, and twenty minutes later, she was out like a light.

I wished I could do the same. But the whole night had put me on edge, and instead of going back to sleep I sat up awake in bed. I couldn't bare the thought of closing my eyes to see those luminous red irises staring back at me. I took some of my pain medication, as my arm's ache had been reawakened by Lydia's panic attack, and then very, very slowly began to get ready for school. It took some extra time, as I was trying to do everything with my left hand instead of my right. I changed into a pair of jeans and a ruffled blouse, black so that the sling wouldn't particularly stand out. After some deliberation, I dug into my storage closet and pulled out a pair of beat up Converse high-tops. They were extremely scuffed, and the black fabric was worn, but they were comfortable and reassuring. I didn't have the energy to walk in heels today.

Unfortunately, I couldn't do much for makeup. I wasn't steady enough with my left-hand to make a straight line with my staple eyeliner, or even lipstick, and I couldn't get foundation too close to the cuts on my face. I sighed in frustration. The most I could do was attempt to cover up the bags under my eyes, and maybe add a little eye shadow and chapstick. I looked like a wreck, and for the hundredth time since I woke up, I rethought my decision to go to school. I knew Lydia wasn't. But even though I had received the brunt of the physical attack, I seemed to be in a better place than Lydia. She was absolutely terrified after almost losing her boyfriend and best friend in one fell swoop, and she'd be jumpy and unable to concentrate at best. And with the medication, she'd probably be in an even worse state for social interaction. I thought about Lydia's episode this morning, the screaming and the terror. I was just as terrified and confused. The only thing that seemed to be keeping me sane was the knowledge that Stiles knew what was going on. So I had to go to school. Because I was determined to no longer be in the dark.

Breakfast with my mother was completely silent. She eyed me like a time bomb through the entire meal, and by the time I'd finished my cereal I was completely ready to go to school just to get out from underneath her gaze. She went to grab the keys while I stood by the door, pulling my backpack onto my good shoulder. I spotted a brightly wrapped yellow box by the door, suddenly remembering that it was Allison's birthday. Had it only been this weekend that I'd bought her the calf-high, black hunting boots as a surprise? It felt like ages, another lifetime. I dazedly scooped up the box before walking out to the van with my mother.

"Are you sure you're gonna be okay?" she asked nervously as we pulled up at the school. It was still very early, and there was hardly anyone there.

"I'll be fine, Mom."

"You know you could just stay home today. Ellie and I would both understand, and you could stay with Lydia." I shook my head, still staring at the double doors.

"I can't just sit at home. I need to get out of the house." My mother sighed beside me.

"Why do you have to be so well-adjusted? Your attitude is entirely too healthy." I turned to look back at her with a small smile.

"Would you feel better if I said I'd rather face all the attention at school than have you breathing down my neck like the overprotective parent you are?" She returned the smile, but sadly. I knew that the attack had been as hard on her as it had on me. She'd been pretty close to losing her daughter only a few months after her husband.

"That sounds a little more like an angsty teenage girl, yeah," she replied finally. "What are you going to tell everyone?"

"I'll just say I had a little run in with a car," I reasoned.

"People are going to ask why Lydia's not in school," she reminded me. "Do you know if Jackson's coming?" I shook my head.

"I don't know, but if I had to guess, yes. He's not going to want to sit in the house by himself." We sat in silence for a few more minutes.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" my mom asked for the twentieth time. I pursed my lips.

"Bye, Mom," I said, climbing out of the car. Her parting smile was laced with worry and sadness.

"I'll see you later. If you need to come home early, just text me." I nodded, then I turned my back on the minivan and walked towards the school.

My first stop was my own locker, where I put back all of the books I wouldn't need for a while. I tried not to look at myself I the mirror on the door. I didn't need another reminder of what a bad idea going to school was. After that, I walked to Allison's locker. I dialed her combination, and when the door swung open I had to jump back in surprise as three or four balloons came popping out. I sat stunned for a moment. When did Lydia even have time to do something like this? I shook myself out of my daze, grabbing a pen out of my purse. I knew Allison didn't want anyone to know about her seventeenth birthday, and it would be kind of hard to keep it a secret when Lydia had set a trap in her locker. Quickly as I could with one functioning arm, I stabbed all of the balloons by the knots, bleeding the air out without the startling popping sound. I decided to leave the deflated balloons in her locker though, now a quiet reminder instead of an announcement to the whole school. I was glad that Lydia had signed the birthday card from both of us, as there was no way I'd be able to write even my own name now. I pushed the wrapped shoebox into her locker and then closed it.

On a normal day, I would have waited at her locker until Allison showed up. But today wasn't a normal day. Today I had someone else to talk to. I turned and walked swiftly away as more people began arriving, positioning myself by a different locker as I waited for my target to arrive. He didn't disappoint.

Stiles stopped in the middle of the hallway when he saw me waiting for him. He glanced around, taking a few steps back and forward again, contemplating whether or not he could just run. But we both knew he needed to get to his locker, and I'd already seen him. So reluctantly, Stiles strode up to me.

"Hey, Sadie," he greeted casually as possible. His eyes roamed my face, sticking on the poorly covered bags and the fresh butterfly bandage. "You look terrible."

"Gee, thank you Stiles. I didn't know," I growled, and if I'd had a free hand, I would have punched him. He quirked his lips apologetically, opening his locker.

"How'd you sleep?"

"Terribly," I admitted. "Lydia woke me up screaming in the middle of the night." That got his attention.

"What?!" he demanded, completely forgetting about his locker. "Why?! Is she okay?! What happened?!"

"She's fine, she's fine," I assured him, tossing my head to the side. "She just had a nightmare. They've got her on medication now." Stiles still looked apprehensive. I rolled my eyes. "Stiles, I would have texted you if something happened to her. I promise." In an instant, his face went from distrust to taken aback.

"Seriously?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah," I answered, shrugging. "You're my friend, and I know that you really care about her." Stiles studied me in surprise. I assumed, with very little doubt, that no one had ever taken Stiles's crush on Lydia seriously. To everyone else, Lydia was visibly out of his league. She never talked to him, never looked at him, and there was no reason they had to interact. But I'd seen how deeply Stiles cared about her, and now they did have a link—me. I knew that Lydia was completely in love with Jackson, and even if he didn't want to admit it to the world, Jackson loved her too. Even so, I knew that if I was in Stiles's position I'd want someone to tell me if anything bad had happened to Lydia, even if we had no chance of being together.

"Thanks," Stiles whispered, looking at me with genuine appreciation. I smiled, abruptly changing the direction of the conversation.

"Because you know, I wouldn't even be sure what was wrong with her. Seeing as I'm not one of the people who knows what really happened last night." Stiles winced, grabbing his books from his locker and shutting it.

"Sadie, I can't just tell you."

"Stiles!" I exclaimed. "That thing could've killed me last night! It's not a mountain lion, and I know you know it." Stiles leaned on the wall of lockers, running a hand over his hair in distress.

"No! I mean, I know! It's just…it's not really like, my thing to tell." I huffed in frustration. I loved that Stiles was such a loyal person, but it was really causing me problems right now.

"Then whose is it?" Stiles deliberated for a moment, and I saw his eyes flick to my cut forehead.

"I can't tell you anything without talking to Scott first."

"Okay," I conceded, walking past him. "Then lets go talk to Scott." I sped to the English classroom, Stiles struggling to keep up with me. I ignored all of the confused looks I got from other students who spotted the sling and face wounds, choosing instead to walk straight into the classroom and straight to my seat as if they weren't there at all. I bounced my leg impatiently when I was seated, eyes on the door as I waited for Scott to appear. And I waited. And waited. Until the bell finally rang.

Stiles and I shared a quick look, turning back to the door expecting to see Scott barreling through late, or maybe Allison and Scott both scurrying in with their heads down because they'd been making out in the hallway. Either way neither happened.

"Miss Bennet?" I was so focused on the door, I hadn't even noticed anyone walk up beside me. I jumped about a foot out of my seat, barely suppressing a squeal as my right hand clutched at my chest from its place inside the sling. I looked up to see Mr. Neske standing next to me, looking down in concern. My start had caused a few other people to look over at me too, and my face flushed as I tried to regain my composure. Even on a bad day, I was never this skittish. "Are you alright?"

"What?" I asked, looking up at the teacher with wide eyes. Mr. Neske pointed to my arm in concern. "Oh! Yeah, I just uh…I had a run in with a car yesterday. I'm fine."

"Would you like me to make you a copy of the notes?" he inquired gently.

"Oh no," I assured him. "Stiles is taking notes for me." Mr. Neske and Stiles both raised their eyebrows, but when the teacher turned to him, Stiles smiled, waving awkwardly with his pen poised over the paper. Mr. Neske narrowed his eyes.

"I'll get you a copy of the notes," he decided, patting my good shoulder and walking away. Stiles stared after him offended before turning to look at me. I shrugged, nodding my head towards his notebook. He glared at me, but turned around to face the front.

Scott didn't show up in English at all. Neither, for that matter, did Allison. And when class was over, Stiles was still refusing to tell me anything about what was going on. Needless to say I was beyond frustrated. I'd grabbed him by the front of his shirt with my free hand, demanding that he text me the moment he heard from Scott, and didn't release him until he had promised he would. Then I reluctantly made my way to math class.

"Woah," Danny said as I sat next to him. "Sadie, what the hell happened to you?"

"Oh, this?" I laughed it off, gesturing to my sling. "I had a little run in with a car."

"Shit," he muttered, looking over the cuts on my face. "You okay?"

"Well, nothing's broken. The sling will be cramping my style for the rest of the week, but I should be fine,"

"How's Lydia?" he inquired, playing with his pen in his hands. I raised my eyebrows, mouth slightly agape. "She wasn't in homeroom," Danny elaborated. "Also, you're wearing your beat up sneakers, something Lydia wouldn't let you near in her right mind." I smiled fondly at the goalie.

"She'll be okay," I assured him. "She's at home on some medicine."

"Do you know what's wrong with her?" I paused, biting my lip.

"No," I responded. "Not really."

Any more questions were discarded when, at that moment, Jackson walked into the room. He looked just as terrible as I felt or, as Stiles had informed me, as I looked. Though he wasn't visibly harmed, he was much paler than usual; even just one poor night's sleep causing his cheeks to look a tad sunken, and he had dark bags under his eyes. The poor guy looked dead on his feet. Jackson met my eye as he came to sit in front of me, and I could see his guard slip just a little as he similarly assessed my damage.

"Hey," Danny greeted with concern. "Dude, you okay?"

"Fine," Jackson replied shortly, leaning back into his chair. I could see the cuts Derek had left on the back of his neck, the puckered lines reaching up into his hairline.

"No you're not," Danny pushed. "What happened?"

"I said I'm fine," Jackson repeated, scaring me. It wasn't the same sort of "I'm fine" I'd heard the previous night. He wasn't snapping or screaming at all. Instead, he just sounded tired and even helpless. That fact terrified me. If Jackson wasn't taking his bad mood out on everyone around him, he must have been worse than I thought. Danny glanced at me for help, but I simply shook my head. If Jackson didn't want anyone to know what happened, I would respect that. I wasn't too keen on retelling the story another fifty times either. So instead of answering, I lifted my good hand and rested it tentatively on Jackson's shoulder. He flinched, but didn't pull away. I rubbed my thumb over the fabric of his leather jacket comfortingly, pulling away only when the lesson started.

For the next few classes, I was repeatedly asked in both sincere and fake voices whether or not I was okay and what had happened to me. I repeated my story on a loop, giving as little detail as possible. I'd gone out last night and had a minor run in with a car. I would be fine. I had to be even more vague when various admirers inquired about Lydia. Well, we weren't sure what was wrong with her just yet, but she was at home on medication and she'd be back to herself in no time. When people asked about Jackson, I feigned the same ignorance Danny had, claiming that I hadn't spoken to him about it. Technically that was true. I hadn't spoken to him about what had happened, only heard him tell the story to the police repeatedly. I was content to leave him that way, until it was time for chemistry.

I was on my way to Mr. Harris's room until I caught sight of Jackson high-tailing it in the other direction. I froze in the middle of the hallway. Jackson and I were friends, sure, but he was Jackson Whittemore. He hardly talked to Lydia about feelings, let alone me. I'd never had a meaningful conversation with him that extended past sports.

I looked back at the door to the chemistry room. It was another class that I had with Stiles and Scott, making me reluctant to skip in case the puppy-eyed boy decided to make an appearance. But as I watched, Stiles strode up to the door and walked inside, his friend nowhere in sight. I made a split second decision, turning on my heel before I could change my mind and running after Jackson.

I found him slumped in the hall in front of his locker. The bell had rung, so the hallways were completely empty, allowing him to drop his shields for a bit. He was crumbled on the floor, knees up and supporting his elbows as he held his head in his hands. I bit my lip as I approached, trying to make my footsteps a little louder so he wouldn't accuse me of sneaking up on him.

"Jackson?" I questioned softly. "What's wrong?"

"I'm fine, Sadie," he growled, not looking up at me. I rolled my eyes, allowing my bag to fall onto the floor next to him and causing him to jump slightly.

"Come on, Jackson," I coaxed, leaning my back against the lockers and carefully sliding down so I was sitting next to him. "We don't have to talk about it. I just don't want you to lie to me." I watched him carefully for a few seconds, until he finally looked over at me. The bags under his eyes were worse close up, and his skin had a light sheen to it as he'd been in a panicked sweat. I could feel his eyes searching my face as well, looking closely at the cuts and bruises.

"How's Lydia?" he finally asked. My lips tugged up a bit. For one, I'd gotten a response, and on top of that, Jackson was letting himself be vulnerable to ask about his girlfriend.

"She could be better," I admitted. "She woke up screaming from the nightmares, but she's not physically hurt. I couldn't leave her all night, but her mom's got her on some kind of drugs now. She was still pretty shaken when I left."

"What's she all worked up about?" he tried to ask offhandedly. I narrowed my eyes.

"Probably the fact that her boyfriend and best friend were almost killed by a wild animal last night," I offered. At the mention of the actual attack, Jackson dropped the high and mighty attitude again. He furrowed his brow, staring at the ground in front of him in worry.

"I don't think it was a mountain lion." I looked back at him with widened eyes, eyebrows as high as they could get without irritating the cut on my forehead.

"Why?" I prodded. I knew that I knew more about the situation than Jackson did, though I wasn't sure how much he suspected, so I was careful not to agree with him outright.

"I just don't," he argued. Then he sighed, leaning his head in his right hand and turning to look at me. "What kind of mountain lion just slashes a guys throat and stops, hm? Would he have like, tried to eat him or something?" I opened and closed my mouth, not sure of the answer myself, but Jackson wasn't waiting for an answer. "What kind or mountain lion knocks shelves over on purpose? Okay? Cause it's not like they accidentally fell when it pounced, it was like—it was like complete silence and all of the sudden I was pinned down. And then it—And then it…!" He trailed off, closing his eyes as he thought about the previous night's events. "It wasn't scared off by the sound."

"Then what happened?" I urged gently. Jackson looked up at me with wide eyes, and I could see the fear behind them.

"I don't know," he confessed. "But…it had me, Sadie. It was… It was right behind me. It was breathing down my neck and then it was just…gone…" I stared at the confused boy in front of me. I'd never seen him more conflicted. I knew he wanted to let it go. He wanted to believe that it was a mountain lion and leave it at that, at a rational explanation. But there was no rational explanation for what he'd been through, for what we'd been through. His green eyes searched mine, begging for some answer, for me to make sense of everything for him.

"It could have been anything," I tried. "Something we couldn't hear, something it smelt. It could have been sick, or hurt, or whatever. What matters is you're okay." I grabbed his free hand with mine, trying to calm him down the same way I had Lydia. "The Sheriff's out there looking for it right now. Everything will be fine." Jackson sighed, looking down at our hands. His was unresponsive to my touch, but he hadn't immediately pulled away either, which was honestly what I'd been expecting.

"Sorry I freaked out last night," he apologized in the most un-Jackson way I could imagine. I raised my eyebrows. "I know that cops are supposed to be a sensitive subject. I wasn't thinking." My mouth hung slack for a moment, completely blown away by his thoughtfulness.

"That's…th-that's fine," I stammered. "I'm uh…sorry I chewed you out. I know you had to do the hard part talking while Lydia and I just sat back. I get that you just wanted to get out of there." Jackson chuckled humorlessly.

"Yeah. But…glad you're okay." I smiled at him, still kind of in awe of my current situation. A heart to heart with Jackson Whittemore, big shot lacrosse captain and most popular kid at school. Who woulda thought?

"You too, Jackson." He looked at me for a moment before grinning.

"You look like shit." I laughed as he climbed up to his feet again, leaning my head against the lockers.

"At least I have an excuse," I countered. "You're not looking so hot yourself, Whittemore."

"Screw you, Bennet," he replied, sticking out a hand to help me up. "I always look hot."

Sufficiently done with the vulnerable, emotional crap, Jackson led the way back to the chemistry room. We were pretty late, but Mr. Harris had a soft spot for Jackson. Lord knows why, but I figured I would be pretty safe if we walked in together. He took a moment to recollect himself before we walked in, his face not quite the same confident smirk it always was, but he must have been trying. He held the door open for me, and I walked tentatively into the room.

Mr. Harris had evidently stopped mid-lecture as he stood in the middle of the room. He watched Jackson and I walk in with a fairly stoic face, a courtesy no one else in the room had. I saw Danny looking at us with worry. Stiles was glancing between the two of us suspiciously, chewing on the highlighter cap between his teeth. I ducked my head when we made eye contact, choosing to sit with Jackson at an empty table. Mr. Harris walked up behind us, resting a hand on each of our shoulders.

"Jackson, if you need to leave early for any reason, you let me know. You too, Sadie." Jackson and I both nodded silently, and I nervously picked at the butterfly bandage as he walked back to the front of the room. "Everyone start reading chapter nine." Jackson and I both pulled out our books, and class went on as normal without interruption. Well, except when Stiles had fallen out of his chair trying to talk to Danny.

At lunch, I slammed my tray down across from Stiles at an otherwise empty table. He jumped from his spot absorbed in his phone, looking up at me in confusion.

"Sadie? Wh-Why are you sitting with me?"

"Because Lydia's not in school, Jackson's AWOL, and I don't feel like making up a story about the car that hit me," I replied immediately. Stiles nodded.

"Oh, well…that's a uh, good reason." He picked at his food as I began to eat, continually checking his phone. A few minutes later, he finally spoke up again. "How's Jackson?"

"Worse than I would have thought," I informed him. "He doesn't really know what to make of last night. He knows it's not a mountain lion, but he's not sure what else to think. He's really shaken up. I've never seen him this vulnerable before." Stiles nodded, obviously worried that Jackson was also suspicious.

"So uh…what's up with you two?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, glancing up from my tray.

"You know, it's just…you guys walked into class late and whatever, and—and I was talking to Danny and he said he won't talk to him but he's talking to you and Danny's his best friend so you know I was just…"

"I'm not stealing him away from Lydia if that's what you're asking," I cut him off, rolling my eyes.

"Wh-what?" he scoffed. "No! That was—That was not was I was asking at all. I didn't think—you know, I just didn't think you guys were..."

"Stop talking, Stiles."

"Gotcha," he agreed, running a hand over his hair and ducking his head to check his phone again. I waiting impatiently for another few minutes, but we continued to sit in silence. Finally, I broke.

"You have to tell me, Stiles," I snapped, causing his head to whip up immediately. "I mean, together Jackson and I have a pretty good case that it wasn't a mountain lion. It'd be a lot easier to calm him and Lydia down if I knew what attacked us."

"No!" he yelped immediately. "No! You can't tell them!"

"Why not?!" I demanded.

"Because it's dangerous!"

"That _thing_ is dangerous, Stiles!" I countered. "Way more dangerous than a mountain lion! And if people keep running around thinking that's all it is, people are going to keep getting hurt!"

"You think I don't know that?!" he hissed back, clearly upset. "Okay? My dad is out there hunting this thing and he's got no idea what it is!"

"Then why don't you tell him?" I asked, a lot less harshly than before. Stiles sighed, resting his head in his hand.

"Because I don't want to put him in more danger," he confessed. "He's job's dangerous enough as it is."

"Stiles…" I started, but he cut me off.

"No, Sadie! No! I already said I can't tell you anything without talk to Scott! And Scott!" he exclaimed, checking his phone yet again. "Scott is not picking up!"

"Allison's gone too," I informed him. "They probably skipped together."

"Yeah, well he could still answer his fricken phone."

"He's with Allison," I laughed. "Of course he's not gonna pick up the phone for you." Stiles glared at me and I rolled my eyes. "Oh calm down, Allison wouldn't pick up if it were me either. It's probably some birthday rule."

"Birthday?" Stiles asked distractedly as he typed out another text to Scott.

"Yeah," I confirmed, taking a sip from my water bottle. "It's Allison's birthday, but she didn't really want anyone to know. Guess they decided to get out of here."

"Hmf," Stiles grumbled. "Wish I was getting birthday sex." I threw the water bottle cap at him.

Before lunch was over, I'd also sent Scott and Allison a few text messages. I didn't expect responses from either, figuring their phones were off as part of some sort of code for skipping school. I'd resigned myself to another boring, uneventful day of school. Normally, that prospect would have pleased me, but I was too restless knowing that something was happening outside of school that I wasn't a part of—that I wasn't allowed to be a part of—and I'd been so set on making Stiles tell me. But it looked like that was going to have to wait for another day.

However, my day got a hell of a lot less uneventful when I ran into Jackson as I walked out of the library on my free period. His hair was still slightly damp from his shower after gym, though if it was water or sweat shining on his face, I couldn't tell. The calm he'd achieved before chemistry was completely gone, replaced with an anxiety and panic worse than it'd been this morning, even last night right after the attack. His head twisted back and forth, eyes looking at every inch of the hallway repeatedly, his hand occasionally reaching to the back of his neck to finger the healing slices. I pushed my way through the crowd toward him, glad all my books were in my bag so I could move people out of the way.

"Jackson!" I called, getting closer to him. "Jackson, what's wrong?!"

"Nothing," he answered shakily. "Nothing, I didn't see anything."

"What?" I asked, laying a hand on his shoulder. The touch shook him out of the slight daze, his green eyes darting down to my brown ones.

"I-It was that guy," he stuttered. "McCall's friend, the drug dealer."

"The older one?" I pressed, my voice rising. "Derek?" Jackson nodded, still trembling. "W-Well what did he want?! Did he hurt you?!"

"No, no," he assured me. "He was asking me about last night. He… He wanted to know what I saw…" I felt a jolt in my stomach. If Derek was asking around about the attack, then something was definitely up, something definitely related to the bizarre and suspicious relationship he had with Scott and Stiles. I shivered as I entertained the possibility that it could also be something related to the reason Derek had stopped by to see me. "I-I gotta get to class," Jackson said, jerking me out of my thoughts. "I'll see you later."

"Jackson!" I protested, but he shook his head.

"I'm fine. I gotta go." And then he disappeared. I ran a hand through my hair, fumbling in my bag before I released my cell phone, immediately calling Stiles. It took him a few rings to pick up.

_"Sadie!"_ he exclaimed, his voice muffled and hard to hear over all the voices around both of us. _"For the love of God! I told you I can't tell you-!"_

"That's not it!" I interrupted. "Stiles…it's Derek."

_"Wh-What?"_ he asked, his tone changing immediately. _"Where?! Is he with you?! Are you okay?!"_

"I'm fine," I answered. "I just ran into Jackson. Derek was interrogating him about last night and what we saw. Lydia's not here so that means…"

_"If he's at the school he's coming for you,"_ Stiles finished. _"Okay. Okay, I'm coming to get you. Wh-Where are you? You know, just—just stay there, okay? I'll be there in a second."_ Then, before I even got a chance to tell him where I was, he hung up on me. I sighed running a hand through my hair and backing up into the wall of lockers. I looked left and right, keeping an eye out for the dark hair and leather jacket swimming in a sea of high schoolers. Thankfully, I didn't see him anywhere. Instead, I spotted the grey button down, T-shirt and pale skin of Stiles sprinting down the hallway, tripping over his own feet as he raced towards me.

"A-Are you okay?" he panted.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Where did you run from?"

"I was…down in the lobby…calling Scott," he answered. "Come on." Stiles grabbed my good arm, spinning me towards the biology classroom. Since Lydia was absent, he took it upon himself to take her seat next to me. The teacher, frail old lady as she was, didn't seem to notice. She just handed out our worksheets and let us get to it. "Okay," Stiles whispered when the class broke up into quiet chatter. "So what happened exactly?"

"I walked out of the library and ran into Jackson," I explained quietly. "He looked bad, like terrified. So I went over to ask him what was wrong and he started rambling about Derek."

"Where was this?" he asked, pausing to add a label to the diagram in front of him.

"Well, he had gym, so the locker room I guess."

"Great," Stiles sang sarcastically. "Derek questioning people in the locker room. Super." I rolled my eyes.

"The only thing I got out of Jackson was that he wanted to know what we saw last night. Lydia's not here, but we already know that he knows where we live and who I am, and if he talked to Jackson then he's probably gonna want to talk to me and…"

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Stiles said, lightly tapping me with his elbow. "There's only a couple of periods left. I'll walk you to your next class, and then we have Economics and we're done. You get to go home to a Derek-free zone. Promise." I nodded, taking a deep breath at his consoling words.

"You get in touch with Scott yet?"

"No," he snarled, pulling his cell phone from his pocket to double check. "Which is why you might be getting an invitation to his closed-casket funeral sometime soon." I giggled, before biting my lip nervously.

"He and Allison are alright, right?"

"Scott?" Stiles laughed. "Yeah, don't worry about Scott. You can be pissed, but don't worry. I'm sure everything's fine. Now," he said, turning back to his paper, "can you please help me find the 'greater omentum' on this diagram? Lydia's hair is very distracting, and I'd prefer not to fail this class."

Stiles kept his promise and walked me to history, even though his Spanish class was on the other side of the building. He'd squeezed my shoulder before he left, promising that he would try and come pick me up after class to escort me to Economics. But when the bell rang, ending the class I usually had with Lydia and Allison, Stiles was nowhere to be found. I waited for a minute or two, but ultimately decided it'd be better to just leave. I'd be walking in the hall for like two minutes. The idea and mystery of Derek scared me, but I wasn't too worried about walking to Finstock's class by myself. Unfortunately, I'd waited just a tad too long, and the bell rang while I was still in the hallway. I groaned, picking up the pace, as I was still three hallways away.

"Sadie," a voice stopped me, and I turned around. Standing a few yards down the hallway from me was Derek Hale. He was just as tall and handsome as he'd been last time, sporting the same leather jacket but a bit more stubble, and a grey top instead of the white T-shirt. He didn't look threatening at the moment, his face composed to look friendly even, but I stopped when I saw him, just the same. I was completely frozen in place, unable to flee even if I'd tried. "Sadie, I just want to talk."

"Talk?" I repeated, my voice much steadier than I felt, even if it was a little higher than usual. "Like you just wanted to talk to Jackson when you clawed his neck?" I took a few clumsy steps backward, trying to pull out my phone.

"Please don't call Stiles," Derek requested flatly.

"Why not?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

"Because he's really annoying." For some reason, his answer made me stop. I'd been expecting some sort of threat, like "if you call him I'll have to kill you" or something. Instead, Derek seemed completely honest, like having to deal with Stiles would just make his day a little worse and drag out any business he had planned.

"He says you're dangerous," I challenged, ignoring the jab at my friend.

"I am," Derek replied simply. Again, it wasn't a dark threatening tone like I'd been expecting. Instead it was light and conversational, as if we were just talking about the lacrosse team's chances for winning their fourth championship in a row. "But you should be able make your own judgment of character."

"How am I supposed to make good calls on people when no one will tell me what's going on?" I demanded, crossing my left arm around my waist and glaring at him. He raised his eyebrows, copying my position.

"They still haven't told you?" he inquired. "Even after last night?"

"So it's true," I prodded, narrowing my eyes at him. "This has something to do with whatever's going on between you, Scott and Stiles?"

"What did you see last night?" he asked, ignoring my question.

"Black, red, some shattering glass and a lot of the insides of my own eyelids," I snapped, tilting my head to the side.

"Sadie," Derek said firmly. "Did you see what attacked you?" I paused, considering him. I'd been lying to people all day. It would be so easy to go one autopilot, tell him it'd been dark and hitting my head had left me scrambled. But Derek…Derek was in the same boat as Scott and Stiles. He knew things, and if the boys wouldn't tell me what was going on, maybe he could. So for the first time that day, I nodded in response to the question. "Was it a mountain lion?"

"You know, that's really bad interrogation tactics," I blurted before I could stop myself.

"Sorry?" Derek asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"You're not supposed to say mountain lion. You have to wait for me to say it, otherwise you could be planting the idea in my head." I expected the man to snarl at me, make some sort of annoyed or threatening comment. But instead, he surprised me again and smirked.

"Well, is that what you think it was?" I paused before shaking my head. He nodded appreciatively at my response. "Why?"

"A mountain lion wouldn't be that big," I started slowly. "It wouldn't have left its victim like that. A mountain lion wouldn't have been able to crouch like that, or send me flying into a car by swinging one arm…and I'm pretty sure mountain lions don't have glowing red eyes either…" Derek stared at me intently as I spoke, watching me fidget as I thought about the creature.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, gaze softening a bit. I shrugged.

"I'll survive." Derek bobbed his head in agreement, green eyes casting a glance at my arm and facial cuts.

"I'm sorry you got hurt," he offered, sounding incredibly sincere. Before I could thank him or make any sort of snarky comment, he was walking away.

"Derek!" I called, taking a step forward and forcing him to look back. "Why do you care who I am?" The mysterious man stared at me for a couple seconds before sighing.

"Talk to Scott and Stiles," Derek replied vaguely. "I don't think they can avoid telling you about what's going on in Beacon Hills for much longer. I'll see you around, Sadie." Before I could get out another word of protest, he was walking away from me.

"Derek!" I yelled, but he ignored me. "Derek!" I stared after him until he disappeared, then sighed with frustration. So Derek definitely knew what was going on, too, and according to him it was about time I found out what was really going on in this town. I couldn't have agreed more.

With newfound determination, I stormed towards the Economics classroom. I paused at the door, taking in a deep breath before I peeked inside, forcing myself into the classroom.

"Miss Bennet!" Mr. Finstock announced in his perpetually too-loud voice. "Thank you for finally deciding to join us!" I didn't move from the doorway, every inch of my body trembling. My free hand gripped my bag tightly, knuckles turning white, and I ducked my head towards the floor, letting my hair fall in front of my face. I heard Finstock's footsteps as he walked up to me, but still gave a start when he rested his hand on my shoulder.

"Hey, uh…Bennet, you okay?" He managed to cut the volume of his voice in at least half, which was a major improvement. I looked up at him with wide eyes, opening and closing my mouth once or twice and still shaking like a leaf under his fingers.

"Sorry, I…Coach Finstock, I… I think I need to go home…"

"Why's that?" he asked, raising his eyebrows unimpressed.

"Well…b-because after—after the accident last night I had to—I had to get checked out by EMT's and everything and they told me that I might have a minor concussion and that I probably shouldn't go to school but I did anyway and now I'm starting to feel a little dizzy and—and I'm lightheaded and I feel like I m-might be s-sick because of my anxiety and I feel like I might be going into another panic attack and-!"

"Okay, woah, woah," the coach halted, snatching his hand off my shoulder the moment I'd rambled the word "sick." "Don't—Don't freak out, okay? Whatever, just grab your stuff and go home."

"S-Stiles is supposed to drive me home," I whimpered. Finstock's eyebrows rose towards his uncontrollable hair once more.

"Stilinski?" he asked with distaste. I nodded.

"H-He was there at the accident last night and you know his dad's the sheriff," I began to ramble again, a few tears leaking out from the corners of my eyes. "And—and Sheriff Stilinski told me th-that if I needed anything I could just ask him or Stiles and Stiles is the only one I know who has a car because my mom drove me to school this morning and I don't think I can wait for her to pick me up because I need to get home like right now bec- and I- and I feel like I'm gonna be sick to my stomach and-!"

"No! Hey! Okay!" the coach exclaimed, holding his hands up and taking a few steps away from me as I ran my hand through my hair. "I don't need you puking all over my classroom. Stilinski!" Stiles sprang up from his seat, already swinging on his backpack and rushing over in alarm. "Get Bennet outta here," Finstock ordered, pushing us both towards the door. Stiles wrapped a long arm around my shoulders, pulling me out of the classroom and down the hallway. When the door finally shut behind us, I lifted my good hand, brushing the tears out of my eyes. Stiles rounded on me, putting a hand on each of my shoulders.

"What happened?" he demanded as gently as he could. "W-Was it Derek? Are you okay? What do you need?"

"I'm fine," I replied, the tremor instantly leaving my voice. Stiles stared blankly at me.

"You're fine?" he repeated.

"Yeah," I answered as if it was obvious. "Why wouldn't I be? Now come on." I pushed his hands off my shoulders and brushed past him down the hallway.

"Wh-What? B-But you just-! You were just shaking and—and you told Finstock that-!"

"Yes," I said slowly, turning back to him with my hand on my hip. "I was _acting_."

"You…" Stiles stared at me, completely dumbstruck. "Acting?"

"Yes, Stiles. Acting. It's when someone pretends to be something they're not," I explained, as if I was talking to a rambunctious two year old.

"Shut up," he sighed resting a hand on his forehead. "Wow, okay. Acting. That was…yeah, that was pretty damn good."

"Thank you," I said with a proud smile. "Now come on, where's the Jeep?"

"Uh why?" he questioned, falling just a step or two behind me as I marched to the parking lot.

"Because you're coming over to my house."

"Uh why?!" he repeated, his voice going up an octave. I stopped abruptly in the middle of the hall, causing Stiles to knock into my back before I wheeled around, our faces inches apart.

"Because I just had to talk to Derek by myself about what happened last night, and we agreed that it's high time you told me what the hell is going on. I'm done waiting for Scott. You're gonna tell me everything you know about what's happening. Today."

* * *

**A/N: AHHHHH! So that's half because things are getting intense in the story, and half because things are getting intense in Season 3 and I just drove around my neighborhood screaming. That was so stressful. Next week's gonna be awful.**

**Okay, so really, you guys just got this super quickly because I was super excited to get it out. This was originally supposed to be attached to the next chapter, but after the conversations with Jackson and Derek, it ended up being too long. That ended up being the focus of this one, but don't worry. Next chapter Sadie and Stiles will be spending a LOT of time together.**

**Thanks again to all the new favorite-ers, followers, and especially reviewers! Your continues support and motivation is what keeps me writing and chapters coming out quickly! Let me know what you thought!**

**-Brittney**


	12. Chapter 12

"Uh, Sadie!" Stiles called nervously as I stormed over to the Jeep. My even determination and quiet fuming had put him on edge, and he was clearly a little frightened. "I-I already told you that—that I can't exactly tell you…"

"Unlock the car," I instructed, my hand on the passenger door.

"Sadie," he sighed, and I narrowed my eyes.

"Stiles," I repeated. "Unlock. The car." Stiles looked at me pleadingly, but I ignored it, staring him down until he finally pulled his keys out of his pockets and unlocked the Jeep. "Thank you," I replied curtly, climbing into the car and tossing my bag down at my feet. I had to twist a little to get the seatbelt on and door closed, but after a minute or two I finally managed on my own. Stiles was fidgeting in the driver's seat, watching me uneasily. "This is the part where you turn the car on and drive out of the parking lot."

"I get that," Stiles snapped, rapping his hands on the steering wheel. "Sadie…I know you really want to know what's going on, but it's just… It's better if you don't, and I'm really not the one you should be talking to."

"You're the only one I can talk to," I rebutted. "Derek seems to think it has to come from one of you, and Scott's still on radio silence. I'm not sure if he'd tell me anyway. But you were there last night, Stiles. You saw what happened, and you know better than anyone else that I need to know this." Stiles sighed without offering a real answer, resting his forehead on the steering wheel. I let him think it over for a minute or two before throwing in my bargaining chip. "If you come over you get to see Lydia. You can talk to her about last night and make sure she's okay yourself." Stiles looked up from the steering wheel, the red, indented mark on his forehead making his hard look a little less intimidating.

"You're an evil woman."

"I know," I replied with a shrug. He was silent for another minute before he finally broke.

"Fine. I'm not making any promises though," he gave in, starting the car. "For Lydia."

"For now." I countered, and we stared at each other for a few solid seconds before he backed out of the parking space.

It was the last period of the day, meaning several of the older students were leaving campus early too, and the security guards didn't bother us on our way out. Stiles was fidgeting the whole way to my house, his leg bouncing nervously as he drove. I smacked him once or twice, trying to get him to stop, but it would only take a few seconds before he was at it again. I was relieved when we did finally pull up to the house. Stiles was at least collected enough at that point to walk around the car and open the door for me, helping me out and carrying both of our book bags. My mother appeared almost as soon as we walked through the door, wrapping me in a slightly constricting hug.

"Are you alright, sweetie?" she fretted.

"Yeah, I'm—I'm fine," I replied, adding the shake back into my voice. "I just…it was the end of the day and I…I didn't really feel like answering anymore questions and my head was starting to hurt. I didn't want to push it."

"No, no, that's fine sweetheart," she assured me, kissing my forehead. "Thank you for driving her home, Stiles."

"Uh yeah, no problem," he answered with a shrug. My mother released me, smiling warmly at him.

"It's good to see you again." Thankfully, before she could do anything more embarrassing, Lydia's mother walked in.

"Are you alright, Sadie?" she asked, hugging me much as my mother had. I nodded into her shoulder quickly pulling away.

"Yeah, I just needed to get out of there." I saw her glance curiously at Stiles, and stepped up to make introductions. "Uh, Miss Eleanor, this is my friend Stiles Stilinski. Stiles, this is Lydia's mom."

"Yes, uh, it's nice to meet you, ma'am," he stammered, clumsily shifting our bags onto his shoulder so that he could hold out his hand. Miss Eleanor smiled at his politeness.

"And you, Stiles. I've heard a lot about you." Stiles's eyes doubled in size, glancing once at me and then up the stairs as he imagined Lydia coming home to talk to her mother about him.

"Oh? Um, I mean, really?"

"Claire mentioned that you seemed like a very sweet boy," she replied, resting a hand on my mother's shoulder. "It's nice to see that Sadie's made such nice friends of her own."

"Oh," he said, the disappointment in is voice hardly masked at all. "Yeah! Well you know, we're glad to have Sadie, so…" He chuckled nervously, grinning and wrapping around my shoulders again. Even I couldn't tell if my eye roll was directed towards his terrible awkwardness or my mother's giant grin at his response.

"Do you mind if Stiles stays over for a bit?" I asked her, though I already knew the answer.

"Oh, no, of course not," she replied, waving us off. "Have fun." I nodded, pretending I didn't notice her over-happy attitude in an attempt to make sure Stiles didn't notice.

"Okay. Is it okay if we pop in and check on Lydia?"

"That's fine," Miss Eleanor agreed. "I'll take you kids up." I glared at my mother as I walked up the stairs behind Lydia's mother, but she simply smiled innocently and wiggled her fingers in a playful wave. I dropped both backpacks in my room before Miss Eleanor led us over to Lydia's room, knocking lightly on the door but opening it before she got a response. "Honey, there's a Stiles here to see you."

"What the hell is a 'stiles'?" Lydia groaned. She was collapsed and stretched out awkwardly on her bed. Her head was propped up on one elbow as she examined the fingernails of her right hand through bleary eyes and disheveled hair. She was still wearing the short blue nightdress from the night before, and she still had smudged traces of make up on her face. If I had to guess, she hadn't left the bedroom once all day.

"She took a little something to ease her nerves," Miss Eleanor explained, laughing nervously at her daughter's harsh answer. "You can—You can go in."

"Thanks," Stiles said softly, wandering into the room with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

"Sadie, door open," Miss Eleanor reminded me, and I shook my head with a smile.

"Will do."

"Sadie?" Lydia perked up, rolling onto her side so she could see me. "Sadie! Sadie, come here!" She reached excitedly for my hand, pulling me onto the bed with her and hugging my arm to her chest. "I missed you. Where were you?"

"I was at school, Lyd," I explained patiently, trying to twist myself into some sort of position where Lydia could hold my hand and I could be comfortable. I ended up lying on my back, my arm across my chest and hair hanging off the end of the bed. "I left a little early so I could come home and see you."

"Aw, thank you!" she squealed, poking my nose with our linked hands. "I was super bored. I'm still bored. I'm so bored when you're not here, Sadie."

"I know," I chuckled. "What would you do without me?" Lydia stared at me for a moment.

"Be bored." I shook my head and laughed. Clearly she'd had more of the strong stuff than I'd thought.

"Well, I'm here now. I came home to make sure you were okay." Lydia nodded, playing with my hair for a moment before she turned her attention to Stiles, who was awkwardly watching us from the end of the bed. She tried to rest her hand on her hip, pulling my arm with her. I looked back at Stiles to see him swallow thickly as his eyes glanced from our hands to the end of her very short nightgown.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, and Stiles forced his eyes back to her face.

"I was, uh, I was also just making sure you were okay," he answered, playing with his fingers. Lydia nodded, opening and closed her mouth before smacking her lips.

"Why?" she pressed, releasing my hand momentarily so that she could lean over me and pat the covers on my other side. Then she collapsed back on her elbow next to me, and she resumed playing with my hair absent-mindedly as she waited for a response. I watched Stiles carefully, barely holding containing my vicious laughter with a smirk. He stared at the spot Lydia had patted on the blankets, then glanced at Lydia and I sprawled out on the bed. His eyes glanced back and forth for a few seconds, gaping wordlessly. I bit my lip, arching my back into the mattress so I could shift closer to Lydia, simultaneously making more room for him on the bed and forcing my blouse to ride up just a tad. Stiles's eyes instantly flashed to the exposed skin, then Lydia's nightdress and our expectant faces. My cruel smirk grew as I watched him avert his eyes up to the ceiling, mumbling something under his breath before he took a deep breath and walked over to us.

"I, uh," he chucked nervously. "Because I was worried about you…today…" Lydia's head tilted back and forth as she considered his answer, tugging on a strand of my hair. "How are you feeling?" Stiles asked, a bit calmer. Lydia sighed, releasing my hair and letting her hand fall instead to caress his shoulder. The poor boy tensed under her touch, head jutting forward and nearly choking when her hand slid down to squeeze his bicep.

"I feel," she started with a smile, leaning toward him and inadvertently pushing me into his leg. Now I could feel him stiffening next to me, his breathing picking up and getting more uneven the closer Lydia got to his face. "Fantastic," she breathed, inches away from his lips and smirking. Stiles took a shaky breath, blinking his eyes hard in an effort to keep himself grounded.

"Okay," I interrupted awkwardly from between them. "I'm gonna go start my homework." I sat up, forcing the two apart. Stiles immediately began stammering, head clearing now that Lydia wasn't so close to his face.

"No!" Lydia whined. "No, Sadie stay! We can—we can have a party!"

"P-Party, yeah," Stiles agreed, looking up at me with wide eyes.

"Yeah, no," I said, climbing off the bed on the other side. "Not interested in that party." Stiles repeatedly opened and closed his mouth, and Lydia let out a high-pitched giggle.

"You're so silly, Sadie. I like that. Silly Sadie," she laughed, flopping onto the bed onto her back. I didn't miss Stiles's eyes glancing down at her chest, and shook my head.

"Yeah, I know I'm hilarious," I replied dryly. I patted the boy on the shoulder before walking out. "Remember, the door's staying open big guy." I walked out of the room swiftly, leaving a severely delirious Lydia and uncomfortably laughing Stiles alone together.

In all honesty, I knew that wasn't the best idea. Lydia was pretty drugged up, and there was no telling what she would do. But I had at least a little faith in Stiles, and while he was just another horny teenage boy, I believed he wouldn't let things with Lydia get too far when she was so vulnerable. Or at least, I hoped. So I trusted him enough to leave my best friend in his care. I knew he was basically living his dream in there, and I felt he deserved that bit of happiness, even if nothing came from it.

Alternatively, I thought as I started reading through the assigned homework, I supposed I did have ulterior motives. I'd only told Stiles he could come over to see Lydia so that he might be more ready to tell me about what was going on. Maybe if he saw how hurt she was, or how lucky she'd been, or how not-normal she was acting, he'd come to the conclusion that I had to know. One more person clued into the secret meant a little more protection for Lydia, at the very least. And I needed to know. I genuinely wanted him to be happy, but right now his time with Lydia was just a plus.

Trying to read with all of that running through my head wasn't easy. Normally, I would have moved on to something that required more attention, but unfortunately because of my damaged arm, reading was all I could do on my own. I began to get antsy. I stood up to turn on some music, realized it wasn't helping me get my homework done and turned it back off. I moved to read sitting in my bed, then started to worry I might fall asleep and moved back to my desk. After nearly half an hour, I wandered into the hallway to go to the bathroom. At least, that's what I told myself I was doing. Not checking up on Stiles and Lydia.

But when I passed Lydia's room and tried to peer inside, I was met with the closed, plain white door. I bit my lip as my worries about the drugged-Lydia's inhibitions being lowered, and doubts about Stiles's self control, resurface. Eventually, I shook my head. What they were doing was really not my business, I figured. Then again, I had brought Stiles over and Lydia should have been my responsibility. But they were both mature young adults, I concluded. Besides, if Stiles's dream had finally come true, I wasn't sure I wanted to open the door to see the damage. So instead, I forced myself to continue past her room, going to the bathroom and returning to my room a few minutes later. A little while later, Stiles wandered into my room looking slightly dazed.

"Hey there," I greeted when he remained silent. He glanced up from the phone in his hands, looking as if he hadn't even realized he was in my room or that I was there.

"Hi."

"You okay?" I asked, raising an eyebrow and closing my laptop. I'd pretty much given up completely on my homework.

"Yeah…yeah, I'm…fine…" I looked at him skeptically as he continued to look down at the phone.

"I'd expect you'd be a little more than fine," I baited. "I did tell you to leave the door open you know." Stiles looked up again, eyes wide.

"Oh, no!" he said quickly. "No, we didn't…sorry, I didn't… It wasn't like that. Well, it might have been like that, but then… Lydia didn't realize…" Stiles sighed, running a hand over his hair. "She thought I was Jackson." My face softened into a look of sympathy immediately.

"I'm sorry," I apologized sincerely. He waved me off.

"Nah, it's…it's fine…" he muttered. "I don't know what I was expecting…"

"Well, look on the bright side," I offered. "Lydia thought you were Jackson! You could take that as a compliment. Jackson's pretty hot." Stiles glared at me.

"Yeah. Yeah that's really not helping."

"What?" I asked, trying to lighten the mood. "You might not have his hair, but I think you've both got some nice cheekbones." I continued to smirk as he glowered at me. But finally, he looked away, chuckling reluctantly.

"Well thanks," he said sarcastically. "At least someone thinks so."

"Still," I admitted. "I can see how that could be a mood killer. That why you left?"

"Yeah," he conceded, nodding his head. "Well, that and uh, this." He held up the phone briefly, and I noticed that it wasn't his own but Lydia's. I raised my eyebrow, standing up from my chair. "Can I, uh…?" He trailed off, gesturing to the open door.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, go ahead," I urged, walking around my desk. Stiles met me in the middle of my room after checking that the hallway was empty and shutting the door.

"Okay, so you said that Lydia was playing her phone last night, right?"

"Yeah," I confirmed. "She was just taking pictures and stuff." Stiles nodded.

"Well, she wasn't just taking picture of herself."

He positioned himself next to me, angling the phone so we could both watch the video on the screen. At first I thought it was just the shaking, dark screen. But then the camera shook again, and I could recognize the movement of the bright corner that was the shattering glass of the video store window. I watched as the colossal black shape came flying across the screen, freezing with its face almost too close to the camera. Even on the silent, shaky recording I could see the bright red eyes that had stared me down, see the sharp teeth, hear my own screaming…

"Sadie?" Stiles's hand on my shoulder snapped me out of my daze. The clip was only a few seconds long, and he must have played it more than once. I hadn't even heard him talking, trapped in my own memories of the attack. I forced myself to look away from the phone, turning my wide eyes up to him and frustrated to find they were stinging, the feeling I got just before my eyes began to tear up. I blinked hard, taking a deep breath and glance back at the phone once more before turning my attention to the boy in front of me.

"Stiles…" I started softly, shaking my head. "You can't tell me that's a mountain lion."

"I know," he sighed, running a hand down his face and playing the recording for himself again. "I just don't know what I _can_ tell you."

"Well, why do you start with the truth," I snapped, "and we'll go from there."

"I just can't, okay?!" Stiles exclaimed. "Scott is—he's my best friend, and he's involved too and I can't just start going around telling anyone I want without talking to him first."

"You're not telling anyone you want!" I reasoned. "You're telling me because I was attacked last night and I need to know!"

"I'm sorry," he apologized again. "It's not my decision. This is Scott's business." I threw my arms up, more than slightly exasperated. If he wasn't going to tell me, he didn't have to show me the video. He was practically dangling the problem in my face, reminding me that it wasn't just a mountain lion, and then slamming on the breaks and telling me he couldn't give me any more information. I collapsed onto my bed, crossing my arms over my chest. I glared up at the ceiling, as if the smooth white surface was really what was causing all of my problems. I knew I wasn't acting maturely, per say. I did feel I was entitled to the information being kept from me, but Stiles was being much more mature by honoring his pact with Scott than I was asking him to break it. And it wasn't as if he wasn't trying to tell me. Just to prove my point, his voice rang through my room as he called his best friend once more. "Scott. Yeah, hi, this is your best friend speaking. You know you're extremely stressed and freaked out best friend who's got a lot on his plate right now and would really appreciate some assistance?! That one! So you should definitely call him back immediately before he decides to hunt you down and ruin your little birth_date_. Okay? Okay. Bye." I could hear him slam the disconnect button and sigh across the room from me, but stayed as still as I could. I listened to him pace up and down the room for a while before striding up to the edge of my bed. "So this is, uh…nice…your room, I mean."

"Thanks," I replied shortly, still not looking at him. I could hear him shifting around as he turned on the spot.

"It's uh…very clean…" I rolled my eyes, trying to keep the smile off my face.

"Unfortunate side effect of having recently moved into someone else's house," I explained. "I got rid of a lot of stuff and I kind of feel obligated to keep everything in its place. Give it a year, you won't be able to see my desk or dresser, most likely."

"Good to know," Stiles chuckled. "My room's usually the same way."

"You're a teenage boy," I pointed out. "What's my excuse?"

"Well," he mused, "you could always say you're a teenage girl who's completely unaffected by age and gender stereotypes?" That time there was no holding back the smile. I laughed, causing Stiles to join in and sit down next to me on the bed, knowing that he'd won our tiny battle of wills.

We chatted for a pretty long time, just sitting back on my bed. I avoided all topics that could relate to Derek or the animal attacks, and Stiles was polite enough to keep himself from asking about the family photos of my dad I'd taped above my pillow. He commented on my concert tickets, which led to another in depth discussion of our favorite bands and concert experiences, along with artists we mutually couldn't stand. At some point, I'd convinced him to grab his backpack so we could do at least some of our homework. I sat with all of my books spread out in front of me, while Stiles laid out all of our handouts. I'd persuaded him to write the answers down on my worksheets, so long as he used his neatest writing while I helped him find the answers and politely corrected him when he was wrong. Even though there was a lot of underlying tension, mainly because of the mysteries that led me to need him to fill out my homework for me in the first place, I liked hanging out with Stiles. Having guy friends was not something I was particularly used to, so regularly conversing with Jackson, Danny, Scott and Stiles was new for me. But I was a tad surprised how easily Stiles and I got along. We both liked a lot of the same oddball things, and were heavy proponents of sarcasm. And time and time again, Stiles reminded me that he was a genuinely kind person. He just seemed to think and feel in a way that most people didn't, and it was something that I really admired about him.

"Hey, it's me again," he was saying into the phone at that moment. "Look, I found something and I'm sitting here with Sadie and I'm not sure what to do, okay? So if you could turn your phone on right now, that'd be great. Or else, I'll kill you. Do you understand me? I'm gonna kill you. And I'm too upset to come up with a witty description of how exactly I'm gonna kill you, but I'm just gonna do it. Okay? I'm gonna…argh! Goodbye." He hung up the phone again, tossing it onto the ground hard enough that it made a loud clunk. "Sorry," he added to me half-heartedly. "Didn't mean to throw it that hard." I didn't even bother waving him off. I just got caught up staring at him for a moment, an idea forming in my mind as I watched him becoming more and more frustrated. He'd been calling Scott every fifteen minutes or so, just to let him know that he was still angry and needed to speak to him, in case Scott had managed to forget since the last message.

"Can I ask you a question?" I asked suddenly. Stiles looked up from his work surprised, but nodded.

"Yeah, sure." I chewed on my lip for a moment. I didn't want to ruin the good time that we were having, but we couldn't just avoid the problem forever. Lydia was heavily sedated a few doors down, and Jackson had been worse than I had ever seen him today. Even Derek was surprised I wasn't already filled in on what was going on. So I took one last deep breath of agitation-free air before pushing on.

"If all of this," I started, "everything that's going on, the animal attacks, your weird relationship with Derek… If all of it is Scott's business, then why are you here dealing with it while he's out with Allison?" Stiles's shoulders had immediately sagged when he realized that I was reverting back to our dangerous original topic, but he was evidently taken aback by my final comment. He stared at me for a few seconds jaw hanging slack. He looked around, avoiding my gaze as he pursed his lips.

"No, come on, don't say it like that."

"Okay, sorry," I conceded immediately. "I'm not trying to attack him. I know he's got a life and a girlfriend, it's just… You have to admit that sometimes you have to deal with this shit on your own. It might be Scott's business but right now it's your problem. And that's just the way things work out sometimes, you know, I'm not saying it's wrong or right, because you're friends and I know that you'd always be willing to help him out, but… You can't just pretend that this doesn't affect you."

"I'm not!" Stiles said defensively. "I'm not saying it doesn't affect me, I'm just saying that it's not my call."

"Well why not?" I asked earnestly. "Stiles, this may have started off as Scott's problem, but if it's changing your life…if you're still being affected by it even when he's not around…then I think it's completely up to you to do something about it. You should be able to make your own choices." Stiles fidgeted under my watch, looking anywhere but me, at the pictures on my walls, at his phone lying a few feet away, at his own hands twiddling in his lap. He seemed slightly uncomfortable with the notion of taking charge, but I could tell he was thinking over my words. Suddenly, he sprung himself up into a standing position, beginning to pace.

"Why should I tell you, anyway?!" he demanded. "Huh?!"

"Besides getting me off your back?" I countered. "Because I need to know what I'm up against so I can protect myself!"

"You don't have to!" Stiles pleaded. "Please, Sadie. Just let Scott and I worry about all of this, I'm begging you. I promise we're trying to protect everyone."

"I know you're trying," I replied honestly. "But you can't be everywhere at once. You can't _be_ studying for school and practicing lacrosse and investigating murders and keeping everyone safe at the same time. You know, you and Scott said you were gonna keep Derek away from me, and today you said you were gonna stay with me, but you know what? I had to face Derek on my own." Stiles opened his mouth to offer an excuse, but I held up my hand. "I'm not mad about it," I assured him. "It actually wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be, like at all. And when I feel like a mysterious, supposedly dangerous older guy is being more honest with me than my friends? That scares me, Stiles," I admitted, my voice shaking a bit. "I need to know what I really need to be worried about."

"You don't need to worry about anything," he replied, but he sounded tired and unconvincing.

"Oh really? Okay, well what if I'm worried about Lydia, hm?" I insisted, hoping he'd be forced to agree with me. "Stiles, she's my best friend, and right now she's breaking down just a couple yards away. I know that you care and you're worried about her, so just think! I'm around her a lot more than you are. If you tell me what's going on I can do everything possible to keep her safe, and-!"

"You know, despite what you may think, I care about people besides Lydia," Stiles interrupted angrily. "Okay, Sadie? I don't want to see you get hurt! I don't need you getting involved in this!" It was silent for a few seconds as the sentence hung in the air, sinking and dissipating among the tension.

"Involved?" I repeated quietly, looking up at him from underneath my lashes. "Stiles, you're my friend. You're in love with Lydia, who is my _best_ friend. Scott is my friend, and he's dating Allison who is _also_ my friend. Derek Hale just so happens to know who I am, where I live and where I work, and he seems pretty keen on attacking Jackson, who believe it or not is my friend too. And then last night, this thing attacked me and two of my friends and it could have killed me, but for some reason decided not to…" I sighed, forcing him to look down at me as I sat on the floor. "Stiles…I don't think I can get much more involved…"

I could see the wheels slowly and reluctantly turning behind Stiles's eyes as he stared down at me. I tried to remain as still as possible as his eyes glanced over me. I could almost feel it, as If he were dragging his finger across my skin, my discolored hip to the bulky black sling, my bare and bruised shoulder and up my face to the butterfly bandage on my temple. I just managed to suppress a shiver. After a few whole minutes locked in a staring contest, he finally looked away. He looked up to the ceiling, running his hands over his hair and down his face. He looked left, right, and let his whole body sag so he was reaching for the floor. He stood up, checked his phone, and then looked at me again. He dialed Scott's number.

"Hey, it's me," he recorded, his voice a lot less angry. Now he just sounded nervous and resigned. "Look… I don't know what you want me to do, man. I'm here with Sadie still, and… I gotta do something. Just… Call me back. Please." The line disconnected, and he played with the phone in his hands for a few seconds as he continued to look at me, deliberating his decision. Then he slipped the phone in his pocket and walked over to me, holding out his hand. I just stared at it for a moment before he brandished it again. "Come on." I slipped my good hand into his left one and let him pull me up into a standing position. He gently tugged me over to the bed, sitting me down in front of him while he remained standing. Then he scampered to the door, quickly opening it and sticking his head into the hallway to make sure no one was around. He closed it again and turned back to me. I let him take his time, pacing around the room, putting away the homework we'd completed and clearing an area on the floor for him to pace. A few minutes later, he came to a stop, turning to face me but staring down at my feet. "Okay, why don't you… Just tell me exactly why you think it's not a mountain lion. Exactly."

"Too big," I said immediately, shaking my head. "And a mountain lion wouldn't have just slashed the clerk's throat and left. That's not what wild animals do. Jackson seems pretty convinced that it knocked the shelves over on purpose, and then it was standing right behind him, breathing down his neck, and it just decided not to kill him. It could have killed me too," I pointed out, voice shaking at the prospect again. "But when it crashed through the window it just sat there staring at me. And it wasn't lunging like a cougar, it was…it was like crouching. One hand between its legs and one behind it, like it—like it was squatting. And then it didn't come at me with its claws. It had the ability to knock me aside with one limb, like it just swung its arm. And then you know… I'm pretty sure mountain lions don't have glowing red eyes…" Stiles bit his lip, looking at the darkening sky outside my window.

"What if I told you…that it wasn't a wild animal…exactly?"

"Okay," I said slowly, a chill slowly creeping up my spine. "Then what was it?" Stiles took a deep breath, staring at my expectant face.

"Shit," he said, looking away and spinning on the spot. "Okay, okay, you said it—it was crouching right? Like a human?"

"Kinda," I agreed with a shrug. "And it didn't have paws either, it almost looked like just hands with claws." Stiles nodded.

"Right, so um…What…What would you say if I told you…it was a werewolf?" I stared blankly at him for a few seconds.

"A werewolf?"

"Yeah, what would you say if I told you it was a werewolf?" he repeated, his voice a little softer and timid. I raised my eyebrows as he watched me for my reaction. I was slightly surprised by how serious he was. He didn't seem to be able to stand still, which admittedly was the way Stiles was a lot, but he seemed supremely anxious not just a little antsy.

"I'd say that's pretty hard to believe."

"Yeah," Stiles deflated. "Of course you would." I narrowed my eyes as he sagged, turning around and walking away from me. I couldn't help but notice not only the frustration in his voice, but the disappointment. I bit my lip.

"And then…" I started. "I'd ask you to explain why that's what you thought it was." Stiles paused, turning around and looking at me with slightly wide eyes.

"Seriously?" he asked. I nodded. "You're not gonna just…yell at me, or kick me out or like…push me against a wall and try and punch me?"

"No," I answered, my face scrunching up in concern. "You're my friend, Stiles."

"Ha," he laughed humorlessly. "That wouldn't stop most people."

"Well, you seem weirdly serious about this," I offered. "And you're not _that_ good of an actor."

"Oh, thank you."

"You're welcome. So," I said, as if I hadn't been interrupted. "I'm giving you a chance to explain yourself. If you're right, then I gave you the benefit of the doubt and if you're wrong…well at least I'll have all the details of your delusion so I can tell the psychiatrists when they chuck you in the nut house," I joked, smiling slightly. Stiles continued to stare at me as I waited patiently for his explanation. He looked like, for once, he was at a complete loss for what to say. His mouth was hanging slightly open, his lips occasionally trying to twitch into a smile. When he didn't say anything, I pushed on. "So, you think the thing that attacked me was a werewolf?"

"Uh, yeah," Stiles said finally, swallowing thickly and shaking himself out of his daze. "It's an Alpha."

"Okay," I nodded. "And that means…?"

"He's powerful," he answered. "More powerful than a normal werewolf is, like a beta."

"Right," I replied, still skeptic about the way Stiles so easily mentioned other werewolves. We lived in a pretty small town in California. How many werewolves could there be? "And you think this werewolf killed the store clerk?"

"Not just the store clerk, everyone," he corrected. "The bus driver and Laura Hale too."

"Laura Hale?" I repeated, Derek's face flashing in my mind. "Is that who the girl in the woods was?"

"Yeah." Stiles nodded solemnly. "She was Derek's sister."

"Why would a werewolf want to kill her?" I asked, raising my eyebrows again. Stiles face turned white, and he stammered as he brushed past the question.

"S-See it being a-a werewolf explains a lot about—about the killings!" he offered. "They're not just random animal attacks, you know? He can—he can think and it's thought out and he has a reason or something. That's why he _chose_ not to kill you and Jackson." I found myself nodding before I could stop myself.

"And that explains the crouch," I muttered.

"R-Right!" he exclaimed. "Cause it's—it's semi-human! It's a lot more wolf than human, and I'm still not sure why that is. I've been trying to figure it out but there's not really much to go on. I know they don't all turn into actual wolves…"

"Wait," I cut him off. "If this thing is a werewolf, then that means it's a person too. Do you know who it is? I mean, uh…who do you think it _would_ be?"

"No," Stiles sighed. "We're still working on that too."

"We?" I asked. "You and Scott?" He nodded.

"We thought we knew who it was originally, but…"

"Derek?" I clarified, causing him to nod again.

"Yeah, but…it's not him." My mind was racing. I thought through last night's attack over and over, trying to find some detail that would help me disprove Stiles's theory. But the more I thought about it, the more it seemed to make sense, which was terrifying. I glanced up at Stiles with fearful eyes.

"How did you find out about this?" I asked. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, unwilling to answer. Thankfully, he didn't have to. Now that I had the solution in front of me, everything was falling into place. I thought back to the few werewolf articles I'd been reading since the beginning of the year. Since Stiles had taken out all those books on werewolves.

"That's why you took out the books," I said, more to myself than him as I began to think it out, beginning to put the pieces together. I'd made that joke about the full moon being that night. Scott freaking out at the party and Derek showing up. Scott's sudden talent for lacrosse, and how Derek had mentioned he was part of the reason. Derek showing up to take out the werewolf books. Scott and Stiles's wariness of Derek, and why they'd been convinced he'd killed his sister, why they didn't want him around me. The nail marks—no, claw marks—Derek had left on Jackson's neck, and Stiles needing to be the one who took care of Derek when he got hurt. Derek wanting to know about the attack, wanting to know how much I knew…

"Stiles?" I asked, looking up at him from underneath my lashes again. "How many werewolves do you know?" He just looked at me, still determined to remain as loyal as possible by not telling me. But now that he'd admitted the possibility of werewolves, I was sure of it. "Derek's a werewolf, isn't he?"

"Yes," he conceded almost immediately. He was clearly protecting Scott, but seemed to have no reservations about throwing Derek under the bus. I nodded.

"I guess that explains a lot."

"Like what?" he asked raising his eyebrows.

"Well, why he's so interested in finding out how much Jackson and I know, for one," I answered. "It's like he's been waiting for me to find out, though. Like, when he came to the library and I had to take his picture, the flash made his eyes do this weird lens glare thing. I had to take like six different pictures. I guess that has to be some sort of freaky werewolf-eye-thing." I was still confused about Derek's visit, and his attitude about me on the whole. I was sort of friends with Scott and Stiles at that point, sure. But Derek had practically flaunted his condition in front of me, dangling it and checking up on me like it was a game, and he wanted to see how far he could push me before I figured it out. "It also explains why you and Scott keep trying to convince me he's dangerous."

"Yeah, well it doesn't get much more dangerous than creepy weirdo werewolf," Stiles practically snorted.

"I don't know," I muttered to myself, and his head snapped toward me.

"You don't know? You—You're not sure if being a werewolf makes Derek dangerous?!"

"I'm sure he is when he wants to be," I reasoned. "But it's not like you try and keep me away from Scott."

"Yeah, that's because I trust Scott!" he yelled. Suddenly, he'd realized what he said. "Wait, I mean what? No! Why—Why would I try and keep you away—away from Scott…?"

"Stiles, stop," I ordered, rolling my eyes. "You already told me that all of this was Scott's business."

"Wh-Well yeah," Stiles scoffed nervously. "B-But…I mean that doesn't mean…"

"So this has nothing to do with Scott's sudden quick reflexes and strength in lacrosse?" I asked sarcastically. "Or how he spazzed out the night of the full moon at my party with zero explanation? Why Derek showed up or is so interested in him?" Stiles gaped silently like a fish for a couple seconds. "Yeah, that's what I thought." He ran his hands down his face, groaning as he collapsed on the bed next to me.

"Goddamnit," he muttered under his breath, followed by a long string of other profanities as he immediately began beating himself up for letting his friend's secret slip. I pulled my right leg onto the bed, turning to face Stiles so I could rest my left hand on his shaking shoulder.

"When'd he get bit?" I asked after a few seconds. Stiles paused and sighed, realizing that the game was up.

"The night before school started," he confessed. "We went out into the woods to look for the missing half of Laura's body, you know back when we didn't know she was Laura. My dad caught me and I kinda had to leave Scott in the woods. Next thing I know, he's talking about how he got bit by a wolf and practically doing gymnastics on the lacrosse field."

"Was it Derek?" I asked, and he shook his head.

"Nah. That's what we thought at first, but he says it wasn't him. I guess you have to be an Alpha to turn people."

"So, if Derek didn't bite Scott, why's he so keen on getting him to trust him?" Stiles sighed again, looking up from his hands a little calmer.

"Ah, probably because Scott's the new raging teenage werewolf on the block and Derek doesn't think he can control himself," he offered. I noticed happily that his half-joking tone had returned.

"Yeah, I'd say that's a good reason."

"He keeps trying to convince Scott to let him train him. He says if Scott helps him find and stop the Alpha, Derek will teach him to control his wolf powers or whatever." I raised my eyebrows.

"And why aren't we taking him up on this offer?" Stiles turned to look at me for a moment.

"We?" I smiled shyly and shrugged. Silently, I was telling him that I was with him, that I was starting to believe all of this crazy shit he was spewing. Believing enough to listen, at the very least. Stiles was smiling too, shaking his head. "Cause Scott and I don't trust him."

"Why not?"

"Why-? Sadie, have you seen the guy?!" Stiles asked, flailing his arms a bit. I rolled my eyes.

"Okay, besides the fact that he's big, brooding and intimidating. If he didn't bite Scott, he hasn't killed anyone and he wants to bring down the werewolf who has, why don't you trust him?" Stiles pursed his lips, shaking his head again.

"You don't know enough to understand."

"Okay," I said. I pushed myself back farther onto the bed. Stiles watched as I pulled my legs up, propping my pillow against the wall in the corner and leaning back into the nice seat I'd made for myself. I turned back to look at him patiently. "Then tell me everything." Stiles considered me for a moment before he got comfortable as well. Then he started to talk.

After weeks of waiting, I finally got the whole story of what was happening with Scott, Stiles and Derek. Stiles started by telling me about the phone call he'd eavesdropped on about the body in the woods, how he'd gone to find Scott and dragged him out to look for the missing half of the body. His dad had caught him and forced him to go home, leaving Scott in the woods where he was nearly trampled by deer and then bitten by a werewolf. He told me about their conversation the next morning, casually pointing out that was the moment one of Lydia's really good friends had accidentally decided that she knew Stiles which, he confided in me, had confused and scared the shit out of him. I was pleased, to say the least. He told me everything about Scott's strange new abilities, the research Stiles had done, and I finally got my explanation for why everyone ran away at my party—to keep Scott from hurting anyone on his first full moon. He told me about how he and Scott had tried to prove Derek's guilt, and the general panic that had ensued when Scott almost shifted during the first lacrosse game. He was just getting to the part about the attack on the bus when his phone went off. He leapt for it at once, fumbling with it as he tried to accept the call.

"Scott, I'm gonna kill you!" he roared into it, before his face went blank. "Oh, uh h-hey Dad…No I'm good, how are you?" I snickered into my hand, looking around the room so I didn't awkward stare my friend down while he was on the phone. "Oh, I'm at Sadie's house… Yeah, sorry I forgot to call… Yeah, she's…she's doing a lot better," he answered, shooting me a look. I smirked and rolled my eyes. It was true though. I was a little freaked out, but finding out what was actually going on in Beacon Hills had at least taken a load of suspicious anxiety off my shoulders. "No, I haven't heard from him," Stiles said testily. "Nope. Haven't seen him all day actually…Oh ho, trust me, when I hear from him, you will know." His annoyance quickly turned to sheepishness at whatever his father said next. "Uh, depends how you define 'good news'… You might wanna rethink that definition… Okay, bye," he finished, but his dad must have called him back because he immediately put the phone back to his ear. "Yeah? ... No! Dad! I'm not-! We're doing homework! ... Yes, Dad, I swear to God she is making me do my homework… What? No! I'm not gonna—ugh!" He pulled the phone away from his ear for a moment, looking at me with annoyance. "My father would like to thank you for forcing his delinquent son into being productive and hopes you're feeling well," he recited, and if I didn't know better I might have thought it was causing him actual pain. I snickered.

"No problem, Sheriff Stilinski!" I called into the phone. Stiles rolled his eyes and lifted the phone back to his ear.

"Yeah, I'm fine Dad… I'll talk to you later… Bye." He hung up the phone and tossed it onto my bed, then as an after thought he snatched it back, sending a text to assumedly Scott. But before he could get back to the story, there was a knock on my door.

"Come in!" I called, and my mother stepped into the room.

"Hey," she greeted, quickly sending me a sly look while Stiles was still looking at his phone. I rolled my eyes. "What are you kids up to?"

"Just taking a break from bio," I supplied, gesturing to the books on the floor that hadn't been touched in well over an hour.

"Hm, Stiles helping you?" she asked.

"Actually, Sadie's helping me," Stiles chuckled, putting his phone down once more. I shrugged.

"Eh, I find all the answers, he writes them down for me. It's mutually beneficial." Stiles looked momentarily horrified until my mom laughed.

"Well if you weren't such a control freak he might be doing some of the work," she joked, and I rolled my eyes.

"Look who's talking." We both chuckled for a second, Stiles looking back and forth between us, astounded by our exchange. "That's a nice top," I commented, and she smoothed out the blue blouse.

"Thanks. Ellie and I are about to head out to the conferences. I'm sure I'll be hearing terrible things?"

"I'm failing all my classes, my teachers hate me, and I'm selling drugs," I informed her, kicking my legs out in front of me. She smiled.

"I'd expect nothing less. Stiles, are you staying?"

"What?" he asked, still looking flabbergasted at my mother's and mine mutually sarcastic communication. "Oh, uh, I can go home if you need..."

"No, no," she assured him. "Stay as long as you like. Ellie and I are grabbing food while we're out, so you kids are on your own for dinner. There're some leftovers in the fridge. See if Lydia wants a plate too, alright?"

"Will do, Mom," I conceded, throwing up a salute.

"Okay, I love you. See you later."

"Love you too," I responded.

"Stiles," she added, sending him a wide smile, "It was nice to see you again."

"You too, Mrs. Bennet," he responded, nodding with a smile. "Thank you."

"Okay, have fun guys." She sent me a wink only I could see and then ducked out of the room before I could yell at her, shutting the door behind her.

"Wow," Stiles commented as her footsteps receded down the hallway. "I know you said you guys were close, but I didn't think it was that close."

"Yeah," I replied with a grin and a shrug. "We're kind of weird."

"No," he assured me. "I think it's really cool." I smiled.

"So the bus?" I prompted, and he nodded.

"The bus."

While Stiles continued to tell me about his adventures with Scott, we wandered downstairs to make ourselves dinner. I just heated up some of the pasta from the previous night, which Stiles scarfed down like the gluttonous teenage boy he was, and separated some onto a plate for Lydia. I brought it upstairs with a glass of water, and Stiles chose to stay outside the time while I brought it into her room. I placed the plate and cup quietly on her dresser, turning to see that she was dead asleep, awkwardly curled up on her side where she'd probably passed out from the medication. Sighing, I walked over and tried as well as I could to shift her under the blankets, which was quiet a feat with only one hand. But eventually I managed it, tucking her in and quietly backing out of the room.

"She's still passed out," I informed Stiles when I was back in the hall. He nodded slightly before he froze, eyes wide.

"Her phone," he said simply, and then dashed down the hall to my room. I sprinted after him, flying into the room as he snatched the phone off the floor. I peered over his shoulder as he let the video play once more before running a hand down his face. "I mean, what the hell am I supposed to do about this?" he asked distressed.

"That depends," I responded, averting my eyes from the frozen pair of red irises on the screen. "Do we want Lydia to know what she saw?" Stiles stared sadly down at the phone, his lips forming a tight line.

"No," he said finally. "The less people the better."

"Okay," I replied. "Then it's simple." I pulled the phone from his hands, walking over to my bed so I could pick up my own. Stiles just stared at me bewildered as I tapped away on both phones.

"What are you doing?" he asked. I raised an eyebrow, looking at him unimpressed.

"I am sending the video file to myself, downloading it, and then deleting the text messages and file from Lydia's phone," I explained, before placing both phones on the bed next to me. "Boom." Stiles stared at me in awe for a moment.

"That…was an insanely simple solution…" I smirked.

"Glad you told me what's going on yet?" Stiles laughed, nodding and letting out an amused, wordless sigh. "Okay, now. Back to homework."

"But werewolves," he whined as I sat back on the floor. I rolled my eyes.

"Come on, can't you talk about werewolves and literary terms at the same time?"

Stiles eventually gave in, and we were actually able to finish all our mutually assigned work while he talked more in depth about the research he had done to help Scott, and what parts of which legends were true. It would have been an interesting conversation regardless, but now that I knew how relevant the information was, I was twice as interested. I made a mental note to find the post-it note of books I'd given Stiles so I'd have a place to start my own research.

We were almost done with our English homework, the last subject we had where we could work together, when Stiles changed the direction of the conversation.

"Sadie?" he asked, a strange tone in his voice. "When…When did you paint your room?"

"Hm?" I asked, looking up from my copy of _No Exit_. "Oh, um…back in July I guess. Why?" He pushed himself up onto his knees, half crawling half scrambling past me to get to the nearest wall.

"I think…" he started, inspecting the paint. "Sadie…you know that you have wolfsbane painted on your walls right…?"

"What?" I asked, moving over next to him. He pointed at the flowers I had randomly decided to paint growing from the white molding.

"That," he stammered, brandishing a finger at the purple bloom. "That's wolfsbane. Why do you have wolfsbane in your room?"

"Uh, I don't know," I answered honestly. "I Googled 'purple flowers' until I found something I liked."

We both stared at the listing stalk, the purple painted petals pointing in all directions as they had in the picture I'd printed from my laptop. Stiles and I glanced at each other and I bit my lip hard. He pursed his lips, eyebrows raised and eyes wide. We were able to stay silent for about eight seconds before we both burst out laughing. Stiles leaned his back on the wall, throwing his head back while I rolled onto my side on the floor, gasping for air. And we just kept laughing. We were two young, human kids, running around our small town in California, getting mixed up with werewolves and murders, and amidst all the pressure, I had unknowingly painted wolfsbane on my wall. My stomach began to cramp, and I could feel actual tears of laughter leaking from my eyes. I rolled onto my back, chest still heaving and cheeks sore from smiling.

"Oh my God," I gasped. "That's…that's pretty damn ironic. I love irony, you know? It is literally my favorite of all literary devices." Stiles snorted, and was about to reply when his phone went off in his pocket.

"Hey!" he greeted when he'd accepted the call. "What's…?" But he drifted off. I looked over to see the smile on his face slowly disintegrate, and I pushed myself back into a sitting position. "What?!" he demanded. "What the hell happened?!" Stiles scrambled to his feet, and I warily followed suit, watching as he got more and more worked up. "Is he alright?! Where?!" Whatever had happened must have been urgent, because Stiles face was rapidly turning red as he violently hung up on whoever had called him.

"Stiles, what's wrong?" I asked gently, walking cautiously over to him. His knuckles were white as he gripped the phone in his hand, arms up as he looked widely around the room, trying to compose himself. "Stiles?"

"It's my dad," he said, turning to face me, but not looking at me. Instead, he continued to glare at his phone. "He just got hit by a car."

"What?!" My jaw dropped and I stepped closer to Stiles, overcome with concern. "Is he okay?!"

"He's saying he's fine," Stiles ground out, clearly not ready to believe it. "Some asshole just backed into him at the school parking lot. _Apparently_, there was a mountain lion attack." I froze, looking up at Stiles's slightly dead eyes.

"Now when you say mountain lion…"

"I mean actual mountain lion," he replied. "Allison's dad just shot it down."

"Shit," I muttered. "And everyone's gonna think that's the end of the killings." Stiles nodded solemnly.

"Listen, I…" he trailed off, his hands still clenched over his phone.

"No, go," I said, somehow anticipating what he wanted to say. "Go make sure your dad's alright." I helped him collect his books as quickly as I could, and jogged downstairs with him to the Jeep.

"Thanks for, uh…" he started, throwing his bag hastily into the passenger seat and turning to me, but I held up a hand.

"Stiles, stop talking and start driving. Your dad needs you. I'll talk to you tomorrow." He nodded in relief, jumping into the Jeep and peeling out of the driveway with another word of thanks. I watched him go until his taillights were just two red pinpricks staring at me through the darkness. Just watching me... I felt my stomach turn over, and I quickly glanced around the dark street before sprinting back up the steps and locking the door behind me.

The house seemed ominously quiet now that my company was gone. Suddenly, I wasn't sure what to do with myself. It was a Friday night, and I was already done with more than half of my homework, and now that my partner was gone I had zero desire to do any more. But I couldn't sit in the house in silence. I would drive myself insane. Thankfully, I was saved of making a decision by the entrance of Lydia into the front hall, carrying her empty plate and glass.

"Hey, she lives!" I cheered, meeting her at the bottom of the stairs and following her into the kitchen. "How do you feel?"

"Hm," she pretended to think. "Like I was attacked by a mountain lion and then passed out because my mother drugged me."

"And she jokes too!" I laughed, nodding appreciatively. "Well you look a thousand times better. I'm glad you're feeling alright."

"Whose car was that leaving just now?" she asked me, narrowing her eyes.

"Oh, uh, Stiles. He came over to do homework." Lydia's plate fell into the sink as she whirled around.

"Sadie!" she gasped. "You had a boy over to _study_ without telling me?!"

"Oh my God, Lydia," I groaned, dropping my head back. "It wasn't studying it was homework. We weren't doing anything, and I would let you know if I was going to." She still looked skeptical, glaring at me with her arms crossed over her chest. "Lydia, I swear to you I will let you know when anything remotely interesting happens in my love life."

"Fine," she huffed, sated for the moment. "God, I need more drugs."

"No, no, no!" I laughed, quickly wrapping my arm around her shoulders. "Come on, let's do something fun. Let us…watch a movie. Come on."

I eventually managed to coax Lydia into the living room and let her choose a movie for us to watch. Needless to say, we did not watch _The Notebook_.

When our mothers came home I was able to get the whole story of what had happened at the parent teacher conferences. My mom had walked out of the school with Mr. and Mrs. Martin, as Lydia's father had shown up for the conference, to complete chaos. People were running around the parking lot, screaming, and cars were flying by as people tried to escape. No one could figure out what was causing the panic until two gunshots went off. Apparently, Mr. Argent had shot down the invading mountain lion. Everyone had been on the run, thinking of the previous animal attacks, but now that the animal was dead everything should be over. At least, that's what mom was saying with relief.

But now, I knew better.

I took my pain medication and tried to go to bed early that night. It'd been a crazy day. Not just busy crazy, like literally a crazy day. I'd stayed up late being interrogated about a murder and animal attack, had a heart to heart with Jackson, a calm and enlightening conversation with Derek Hale, taken care of a drugged up Lydia, and found out that there were at least three werewolves running around town, one of which was my friend. My mind needed the rest, and yet I couldn't fall asleep. So I did the same thing I did every night I couldn't sleep. I grabbed my laptop and pulled it into bed with me, and Googled the one word that would keep me up researching until I passed out from exhaustion.

_Werewolves._

* * *

**A/N: Whoo-hoo! Happy Fourth of July everyone! Or, for my non-American readers, Happy Sadie-Finally-Knows-About-Werewolves Day! I hope you enjoyed the massive amount of time Stiles and Sadie spent together in this chapter. There were a lot of really fun and really intense moments to write, and I really enjoyed myself.**

**As usual, welcome to all the new followers and favoriters, and thank you so much to everyone who reviewed: CypherToorima, bbymojo, ScornedxRose, becca1130, Lojo2014o, DetectiveKateTodd, and XxElementBenderxX (oh god that was some seriously high praise. I blushed, thank you so much!) Pleas keep the reviews coming, whether you're a regular reader or just started. I love knowing what your favorite specific moments were, and what you're excited to see more of. (Besides Sadles feels. We all want more Sadles feels, haha.) Especially on this incredibly important chapter!**

**Again, thank you all so much for reading, and I hope you have a great holiday.**


	13. Chapter 13

On Saturday, I finally woke up around one in the afternoon. I'd been up extremely late doing research, accidentally falling asleep with my back propped up on my pillows, laptop still humming away in my lap. I groggily got up so I could shower and get ready for my completely plan-free day. I changed into jeans and a band T-shirt, still too sore to care about what I was wearing. I called Stiles when I got out of the shower too.

"How's your dad?" I called into the phone, which was sitting on the bed on speakerphone while I tried to put on my sneakers.

_"He's gonna be fine,"_ he informed me. _"The car hit him close range, and he was just backing out so it's not like he was speeding. Still, he knocked him to the ground pretty good. Dad hurt his back and he's staying home in bed for the weekend."_

"Now did the doctors tell him he was bedridden or was that just you?"

_"I just don't want him to get worse,"_ Stiles sighed. _"One weekend off won't kill him."_

"I know," I said replied. "You talk to Scott?"

_"No,"_ he snapped. _"And I don't plan on it."_

"Stiles," I tried to reason, but he cut me off.

_"No! Don't 'Stiles' me! What you said yesterday was right! Scott was off screwing around with Allison instead of dealing with his shit and my dad got hurt because of it!"_ I could hear him breathing heavily over the phone for a couple seconds before I responded.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

_"Yeah. Yeah, I know. Doesn't mean I can't be angry at him,"_ he mumbled before changing the subject. _"How are you?"_

"Fine," I replied honestly. "A little tired from staying up reading last night, but mom let me sleep in."

_"You're handling this a lot better than I expected you to,"_ he confessed. I shrugged, even though he couldn't see.

"Eh, they call me well-adjusted. But I wouldn't make any judgment calls just yet. I haven't actually seen anything wolf-related since you told me."

_"You'll be fine,"_ he said bracingly, just as my mom popped her head into my room.

"Hey, Mom!" I greeted loudly, alerting Stiles to her presence so he could put the werewolf talk on hold.

"Hey, sweetie. I've gotta run some errands before I take you to the doctor. Do you feel like getting out of the house or do you wanna stay here?"

"No, no," I told her. "I'll come. Be down in a minute."

"Okay," she agreed backing out of the room headed downstairs to start up the car.

"Hey, Stiles, I gotta run," I said, picking the phone up and holding it back to my ear.

_"Gotcha. I'll talk to you later."_

"Later, Stilinski."

_"Later, Bennet."_

I spent the remainder of the day out shopping with my mom. She'd needed to go to an office supply store for some paper and ink for work, and while she was there I spent my time wandering around the bookstore, making some of my own purchases. We'd gone to the mall so she could buy me a few gifts as a reward for my glowing reviews at the parent teacher conferences, and then she drove me to the hospital for a quick check up with the doctor about my arm. I was ecstatic when they informed my I'd only have to wear it for a few more days. By Wednesday morning, it should be in perfect condition, but it was still suggested that I take it easy. Mom and I ate a casual, early dinner out to celebrate. I'd asked her to stop at the grocery store again on our way back, so I could pick up some ingredients for chili. Mom smiled and agreed, and we spent the rest of the night in the kitchen, working side by side to make my dad's famous chili.

Sunday morning I forced myself to get up early, even though I'd been up late reading again. With my mom's assistance, I was able to complete my homework in handwriting much neater than Stiles's. When we were done, I packed my things away and tentatively looked over at her.

"Mom? What are you doing for the day?"

"Uh, nothing," she said after thinking for a moment. "Why?"

"Well, I can't exactly drive," I offered, wiggling my elbow in the sling. "But I have to visit a friend. Two friends, actually. I was hoping you could give me a lift." My mother smiled in understanding.

"Sure thing. Just let me grab my keys."

"Thanks, Mom." I quickly changed into a worn T-shirt advertising Reese's Peanut Butter Cups and a pair of jeans, tugged on my black sneakers and pulled my hair back into a ponytail. I'd learned a couple tricks to bracing my left arm the past two days, which meant I was even able to put on a little make up. It helped that the bags under my eyes weren't as dark as before, but they were still present, a reminder of the Alpha eyes I kept seeing whenever I went to sleep.

I took a deep breath as I picked up my notebook. I still wasn't sure if I wanted to do this, or what exactly what I was going to say, but I knew that it was something that needed to be done. So without letting myself thing over the situation any more, I collected my things and walked out of the house to meet my mom at the car.

"So, where to?" she asked.

"Uh, that way," I instructed, pointing to the left after I'd closed the door. "Make the first left."

A few minutes later, my mother and I pulled up outside the large two-story house that belonged to the McCalls. I'd gotten the directions from Allison yesterday, and she'd been fine giving them to me, but it still felt a little weird asking around for Scott's address. I glanced over at my mother in the driver's seat.

"Are you gonna be okay just sitting here? I might be a couple minutes."

"What?" she asked, looking over at me with wide eyes and pulling out one of the earpieces to her headphones. "Oh, I'll be fine. I've got my book. Go ahead." I grinned. Typical.

"Okay, be right back." I climbed out the car, grabbing my notebook and purse before I slowly walked up to the porch and then the front door. I took another deep, slightly awkward breath before I knocked. It took a minute or two, but finally the door swung open to reveal Mrs. McCall. I could instantly see the resemblance between her and Scott. She had the same tan skin and dark hair, though hers was thick and curly, hanging down onto her shoulders. I could see that they also had similar brown eyes, face shapes, and when she welcomed me a moment later, the same smile.

"Hi," she greeted, leaning on the green front door. "Can I help you?"

"Uh, hi," I smiled shyly. "Mrs. McCall? My name's Sadie Bennet. I'm a friend of Scott's from school."

"Oh, well hi," she repeated, "Melissa McCall." She shook my hand for a moment, studying my face before she finally managed to place where she'd seen me. "Oh! Are you the Sadie that made that sign for Scott at the last game? You're friends with Allison?"

"Yeah," I answered, grinning with slight embarrassment. "That'd be me." But Scott's mother was beaming.

"That was so sweet of you," she gushed. "I was actually sitting like right in front of you, and I know the boys were still talking about it the next day."

"Oh it's no problem," I laughed, waving my hand a bit. "I figured he could use a little extra encouragement his first game." She nodded heavily.

"Trust me, it did wonders. Thank you." I nodded, glancing around the front room and up the stairs behind her.

"Um, is Scott home?"

"Well, yes," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "But he's grounded. You might have noticed he decided not to go to school on Friday."

"Oh, actually that's why I'm here," I informed her, grabbing the notebook from where I'd had it tucked underneath my sling. "Scott and I have a couple classes together, and I thought I'd stop by to give him the notes he missed."

"Oh, that's…sweet…" she replied, staring at the notebook as if it were a foreign object for a moment. "Sorry, I'm not used to Scott having friends who actually take notes." I laughed.

"I completely understand. I'm sure I'll have to lend Stiles my notes too, and he was in class." Mrs. McCall laughed, her eyebrows lifting as she nodded fervently. "I promise I'll try and make it quick." She considered me for another few seconds before stepping aside.

"Yeah, sure. He's in his room. On the left up the stairs."

"Thanks, Mrs. McCall," I smiled, meekly stepping into the house.

"Anytime, Sadie." I took another deep breath before slowly making my way up the stairs to Scott's room. The door was closed, but I assumed it had to be his because of the soft music playing inside. I fiddled with the notebook in my hand, staring at the wood of the door and trying to come up with what I was going to say. After what could have been a solid minute, I gave up, lifting my hand to knock on the door.

"Just a sec, Mom!" Scott's voice called from inside the room, and I smirked as he swung the door open. He froze when he saw that I was definitely not his mother, staring at me in slight horror and utter confusion. "Sadie…uh…hey…."

"Hey," I grinned, hoping I looked a lot calmer than I felt. Inside, I was almost reeling. For some reason, I'd expected seeing Scott to be…different. I'd thought that, now that I knew what he really was, I'd be able to see it in him, like I'd be able to pick out the clearly labeled werewolf parts. But I couldn't. It was just Scott, as he always had been, slightly awkward with a bemused face and his puppy dog eyes. Only now, I knew that the "puppy dog" part was a little more literal. "Can I come in?"

"Uh, I'm not really supposed to have guests…"

"Oh, yeah," I replied, shoving the notebook into his chest. "These are the notes you missed yesterday." Without waiting for a reply, I sidestepped him and entered the room. It seemed like your typical teenage boy's room. The walls were painted a light yellow, and they were covered with various brightly colored posters. The bed sat in front of the door, purple blanket thrown back and sheets tousled under the wide-open window. A door on my right led to a personal bathroom, and on my left stood Scott's extremely messy desk and a dark armchair stuffed in the corner. I nodded appreciatively, spinning slowly on the spot as Scott stood awkwardly by the door, clearly not sure what to do with himself.

"So…you're in normal clothes again," he observed, bending the notebook back and forth in his hands. I stopped spinning, turning to look at him over my shoulder with my eyebrows raised.

"Really? That's what you're gonna lead with?"

"You got a better idea?" he chuckled. I shrugged.

"Well, I hear that 'how are you' is customary," I offered. "Or you could go with 'what the hell happened to you Thursday night?' That seems to be a popular one lately…" Scott sighed softly. He dropped my notebook on top of another pile of untouched schoolwork and turned his desk chair around, gesturing for me to take a seat. I bit my lip, but after a moment I complied.

"How are you?" he asked, sitting on his bed across from me.

"Could be worse," I admitted. "Could be a lot worse actually. Just a little battered and bruised, but I got out without a concussion and no broken bones."

"Well that's good," Scott replied happily, clearly relieved. "That's—That's great! And—And they caught the mountain lion yesterday so, I guess it's all over." I raised my eyebrows, giving him a pointed look.

"We both know that's not true, Scott." The smile quickly slid off his face, and he sat astonished in front of me. I knew that he and Stiles hadn't spoken since the sheriff had been hit by the car, so while Scott knew that I'd been attacked at the video store, he had no idea about my day with Stiles. I doubted he knew about Derek, and I knew that he had no idea Stiles had found the video on Lydia's phone, or that he'd been forced to tell me about werewolves. But I couldn't just let Scott go on _not_ knowing. I didn't want him to get the wrong idea.

"Wha-…? Uh…What do you…What do you mean?" I rolled my eyes.

"Scott, stop. You're a terrible liar." Silence was thick in the room as we stared each other down. I was slightly regretful, but firm. I didn't want to be the one telling him that Stiles had told me. I knew that should have been Stiles's job, but they weren't on speaking terms currently, and I knew the conversation was not one I could put off. Scott looked quietly terrified as he noticed the firmness in my voice, and probably my quick but steady heartbeat. "Stiles told me."

"What?" Scott asked after a second, letting the phrase hang in the air. I could instantly pick out the hurt in his voice, and I had to clench my jaw to keep myself from stopping.

"I talked to Stiles yesterday," I explained gently. "He told me everything. About you and Derek, and what's been going on."

"He what?!" Scott repeated, shaking and quickly getting up from the bed.

"Scott, he had to!" I tried to reason.

"No!" he exclaimed back, only trying to keep his voice down for the sake of his mother downstairs. "No, he really didn't!"

"I was attacked and I wanted answers," I defended, raising my voice slightly but keeping my seat in the chair. "What was he supposed to do, Scott?"

"I-I don't know!" he responded, pacing over a small patch on the floor. "Lie? At least until he talked to me!"

"He tried Scott," I reminded him. "But you wouldn't answer your phone." Scott gaped at me for a few seconds, expression still wavering between rage, disappointment and guilt, and searching for some words to support his argument.

"Damnit!" he growled, running his hands through his hair and kicking the ground. I jumped, eyeing him warily. I had only known about Scott's condition for maybe thirty-six hours, but all the reading I'd done in that time, along with my own gut, told me that Scott getting angry could not be good for anyone.

"Scott, please," I begged, leaning toward him with wide, pleading eyes. "Don't get mad at Stiles. You can be mad at me, but not him. I cornered him and yelled at him for hours before he told me. It's not his fault." Scott stared at me for a few seconds, chest heaving as he tried to calm himself down. His fists were clenched at his side, but eventually he made his way back over to the bed, delicately perching himself on the edge.

"What happened?" he asked, defeated, and I could see the color beginning to returning to his knuckles as he stretched out his fingers. I relaxed.

"How much do you know about what happened Thursday night?"

"Not much," he confessed. "I mean, I was there with Derek for a while, about when you went off on Jackson." I bit my lip remembering the outburst. "Stiles told me what you told his dad, but he said you were way too smart to think it was actually a mountain lion." I smirked at the compliment, causing Scott's lips to twitch up as well. "So what really happened?" I sighed heavily, not particularly excited to go through the night's events _again_. But Scott needed the full story. So I took a deep breath and settled back in the chair to tell him everything that had happened on Thursday and Friday.

I told him everything I thought was relevant about the attack that he didn't already know, the tale a little clearer now that I knew what exactly it was I was describing. I learned that he and Derek had been listening in from the roof, having arrived to investigate as soon as they learned about the events at the video store. I told him about Lydia's nightmare and Jackson's suspicions, which of course, put him on edge. I told him about Derek's visit to the school to ask Jackson and I what we'd seen. Unsurprisingly enough, Scott was only slightly less worried about the visit than Stiles was. He seemed at least to be considering trying to trust Derek, though he was nowhere near achieving that trust yet. He warned me to be just as cautious, but I still wasn't convinced. I'd only had a few brief encounters with him so far, but now that all of the lies had been explained, I couldn't see any real reason to not trust Derek. But I didn't force my opinion. Derek wasn't a current problem, and I didn't want to get into an argument with Scott. Instead, I moved on to telling him about my conversation with Stiles, how I'd bribed him by telling him he could check on Lydia, how no matter how much I insisted he kept pushing the conversation off, and how I'd only tricked him into confessing Scott was a werewolf after I'd figured it out for myself. He was still a little upset, but he seemed considerably less angry at Stiles, and he couldn't be mad at me for putting the pieces together.

"I haven't spoken to his since yesterday morning, but he says I'm taking it pretty well," I informed Scott. He nodded.

"How's his dad?" he inquired sadly. I sighed.

"Well, all Stiles would say is that he hurt his back. He's forcing him to stay in bed this weekend, but besides that he sounds fine." Scott groaned quietly, dropping his head into his hands. I looked on sympathetically. "You know that's not your fault, right?"

"Yes, it is," he mumbled, not looking up at me.

"No, it's not," I replied firmly. "It was an actual mountain lion in a parking lot full of people, Scott. What were you gonna do?"

"Maybe I wouldn't have stopped the cougar," Scott agreed, "but if I was paying attention I could have gotten Stiles's dad out of the way."

"But…?" I prompted.

"I was saving Allison."

"Okay," I said brightly. "So you saved someone, Scott. You can't be responsible for everyone."

"I have to be," he whispered, meeting my eye desperately. "If I hadn't skipped with Allison she wouldn't have been at the school that night. I wouldn't have had to save her, and I would have stopped that car from hitting Stiles's dad."

"You don't know that."

"I don't not know it!" he argued, brandishing his hands in front of him. I could see they were shaking. "I shouldn't have gone out with Allison…"

"I think it was sweet," I informed him gently, and he looked up in surprise. "I know she didn't want anyone to know about her birthday, so skipping school to hang out with her was sweet. But, yeah, you should have answered your phone." Scott sagged, nodding in agreement. "Radio silence days are good, you know. Cleansing, just…not practical with your…lifestyle…" Scott raised his eyebrows, looking at me seriously and silently for a moment.

"What are you doing here, Sadie?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, shrugging a bit and shaking my head.

"I mean," he sighed, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees, "why are you still here? Around me? I'm dangerous, like way dangerous. You don't have to deal with any of this. You should just run. No one would blame you."

"No," I disagreed. "I couldn't. Whether you realize it or not, this whole…werewolf this is affecting more than just you. It's affecting Stiles, it's affecting me. It affected Lydia and Jackson when we got attacked, and it's gonna affect Allison too." I could see the pain flash across his eyes as he was reminded of that fact. "I'm still here because these are my friends, and I want to keep them safe too. _You're_ my friend, Scott." Timidly, I reached out, resting a hand on his where it hung in front of him. I wasn't afraid of him wolfing out, that he would snap and hurt me if I touched him. If anything, I was afraid I was crossing a major line of awkwardness. "I don't think you're a dangerous person, and if you'll let me…I'll try and help however I can…" Scott stared up at me in wonder, and it occurred to me that I really was the first person to find out that he was a werewolf. Stiles had been the one to figure it out in the first place, and the only other person who knew about Scott was Derek, who was a werewolf himself. Scott was still learning to control his powers, and it was clear from the blank look of shock on his face that he still thought of himself as a monster. My acceptance as a third party made no sense to him. I smiled encouragingly, and slowly but surely, Scott grinned back.

"You're kind of amazing, you know, Sadie?" I laughed, pulling my hand back as I leaned back in my chair.

"Eh, I try," I giggled, stretching my arm above me. Scott shook his head.

"No, really," he insisted. "I…I don't know what to say…"

"You don't have to say anything," I assured him, standing up. "I just didn't want the whole weekend to go by without you knowing that I'm okay with everything going on." He nodded, glancing at my sling.

"I'm sorry you got hurt," he apologized sincerely. I waved him off.

"That's the Alpha's fault, not yours," I reminded him. "But since I'm gonna have to deal with all your werewolf problems now, there is a way you can make it up to me."

"Anything," Scott agreed instantly, rising from the bed. I chuckled and tossed him my notebook with a wink.

"You can take my notes until I get my arm out of this sling." Scott laughed.

"Hey," he conceded. "It's the least I can do."

"Oh, and I need directions to Stiles's house," I added, and he instantly sobered.

"You gonna talk to him?" he asked, scratching at the back of his neck.

"Yeah," I answered. "He's upset, but I think he knows this isn't really your fault."

"Can you ask about his dad?"

"Yeah," I granted. "I'll let you know how he's doing." Scott thanked me, jotting down Stiles's address on a scrap of paper while he listed off directions. I shook the paper in my hands for a few seconds after he handed it to me, narrowing my eyes at him. "I kinda feel like we should hug," I admitted with a wince. "Is that weird?" Scott cocked an eyebrow.

"You just found out I'm a werewolf and you're afraid I'm gonna think a hug's weird?"

"It's two different kinds of weird…" I defended, shifting on my feet. Scott grinned.

"Good weird," he assured me, before enveloping me in a hug. I was met with the same sort of considerate strength and comfort that I experienced when Stiles had hugged me. My arm wasn't squished between us, and I figured Scott had to be very carefully how tightly he squeezed, lest he get carried away with his new strength. "Thanks for coming, Sadie," he muttered, chin jolting a little into my shoulder as he spoke.

"Anytime," I replied, grinning as I pulled away. "I should probably go. I gotta get to Stiles, and my mom's in the car."

"Yeah, I'll walk you out." Scott led the way down the stairs back to the front room. "So I'll give you your notebook back when we talk tomorrow morning," he offered, opening the front door for me.

"Actually, that's another thing," I mused. "I don't wanna take sides between you and Stiles. So until you guys work things out, I'm not talking to either of you."

"What?" Scott questioned as I brushed past him onto the porch. "But-!"

"I'll let you know how Sheriff Stilinski is, but if you two aren't together I refuse to flip back and forth between the two of you," I explained decisively. "So work it out. I'll see you tomorrow, Scott." The poor, werewolf boy waved wordlessly as I walked down the path back to my mom's car, still slightly bewildered by my change in attitude. I held up a hand in farewell as I climbed into the minivan.

"Everything okay?" my mother asked as I shut the door behind me.

"Yeah," I replied, smiling and nodding in assurance. "That…actually went a lot better than I thought it was going to."

"Well that's good," she commented, pulling out of the driveway. "Now where am I going next?" I relayed Scott's directions to her as we sped up on the road, briefly explaining why visiting Scott had taken so long. I'd told her that I needed to walk him through the notes so he could understand what he missed instead of just copying it. It felt almost strange lying to my mom, but I knew that Stiles was right. The less people were involved, the better. Besides, I wanted to help my friends, and if my mother knew that I would be fraternizing with werewolves, she would probably try and stop me from being friends with Stiles and Scott altogether. She'd see it as too dangerous, too easy for her to lose me only a couple months after my dad. But I knew this was something I had to do. I _needed_ to keep people safe.

"Are we where I think we are?" Mom asked as we pulled up to the Stilinski household. She eyed the blue Jeep and police car with a smirk, causing me to shake my head.

"Yes, Mom. I need to talk to Stiles."

"Actually, you know I think I gotta run. Do you think he could drive you ho-?"

"Mom, stop. Stay in the car. You are driving me home." She pouted like a child, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Fine."

"I'll just be a few minutes," I told her, grabbing the Tupperware container from the floor and hip-checking the door closed behind me. Calmly as I could, I walked up to the house, ringing the doorbell with my elbow. It took a minute, but soon I could hear the distinguishable sounds of someone tripping around inside before the door swung open.

"Sadie," Stiles greeted, his brows furrowed and mouth hanging open slightly. "Hi. You…You are at my house. Why are you at my house? H-How are you at my house, actually?"

"Mom drove me," I explained, offering the answer to a question he wasn't really asking. "Can I come in?"

"Um…uh, yeah, sure." He stepped aside, letting me walk inside and closing the door behind me. He bounced on the balls of his feet for a moment, before springing ahead of me, running into the next room where I could hear him shifting things around. "Uh, sorry about the mess!" he called, as I slowly followed him, taking my time to give him a chance to clean up. "We're, uh…not really used to guests."

"I get it," I replied, inspecting a picture of a younger Stiles that was framed on the wall.

"So, uh what's up?" he asked when I entered the dining room, leaning his back casually on the table.

"I thought I'd come over to say hello," I answered, "check on your dad. Mind if I say hi?"

"Oh, yeah," he conceded, looking a little taken aback. "Uh, follow me." Stiles led the way deeper into his house, down a hallway before he knocked on his father's door. "Hey, Dad," he said, poking his head inside to check that it was safe for me to enter. "You got a visitor."

"Visitor? What is this, a hospital?" I heard the sheriff ask, causing me to grin as I followed Stiles into the room.

"Hi, Sheriff Stilinski," I greeted, and the extremely irritated man smiled.

"Sadie!" he replied with a grin. "Nice to see you again. How you feeling?"

"I'm good," I answered, nodding. "Sorry to hear I'm not the only one who had a run in with a car." The sheriff rolled his eyes.

"Would you please tell my son that it's okay for me to get out of bed?" he grumbled, glaring at his over protective son, who stood back with his arms crossed. "I'm just a little bruised, it doesn't mean I can't walk."

"It's not just a little bruise, Dad," Stiles argued, with the air that it was a conversation they'd had several times before. Probably the whole weekend, now that I thought about it. "One weekend in bed is all I'm asking." I smirked, turning back to the sheriff.

"Sorry, Sheriff," I shrugged. "Can't go against the doctor's orders." The man groaned, letting his head fall back. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm feeling fine," he insisted. "I just wish everyone would stop making such a big deal out of it."

"Well," I started with a sympathetic smile, raising the container. "Then you can just pretend this is thank-you-for-driving-me-home chili."

"Chili?" both of them asked at the same time, the Sheriff perking up while Stiles was predictably skeptical.

"Don't worry," I informed him, glancing at him over my shoulder. "Completely heart healthy. My dad's recipe." Stiles softened immediately, both at the assurance I'd thought of his father's dietary restrictions and my offering of more information about my missing dad.

"Thank God," the Sheriff praised from the bed. "Real food." I laughed as Stiles rolled his eyes.

"Thanks for your gratitude," he shot, taking the container from my hands. "I'll go heat you up a bowl." I smiled as I watched him trudge out of the room. I thought it was sweet how he felt like he had to take care of his dad. I knew that if it were my mother who'd been hurt, I'd probably feel the same way. Fortunately for me, being a stay-at-home rates and terms specialist was considerably less dangerous than being the sheriff, so parental injuries were not something I had to worry about too often.

"Hey, Sadie," Mr. Stilinski spoke up a few seconds later in a surprisingly soft voice. "Mind if I ask you something?"

"Uh, sure," I replied, raising my eyebrows as I turned back to him. He looked at me for a moment before sighing.

"About your dad?" My face fell, and I glanced down at the floor, licking my lips. "I don't have to," he assured me, trying to assess my reaction, but I shook my head.

"No, go ahead," I urged him, looking back up. He nodded slightly.

"Was your dad Robert Bennet?" he asked, squinting just a bit. The ghost of a smile passed over my face as I nodded. The Sheriff smiled softly too. "I read about what he did," he said gently. "How he saved those people at the bank. That was pretty brave." I nodded sadly.

"Yeah, it was," I agreed, my voice becoming a little choked up. Mr. Stilinski continued to watch me.

"He was a real hero," he concluded firmly. "I hope you know that."

"Yeah," I nodded, sighing shakily and taking a deep breath. "I know he was." The room was silent for a few minutes as the sheriff left me to my thoughts, not wanting to press me any further now that he had delivered his compliment.

"You sure you can't get Stiles to lift this bed-ridden thing?" he pleaded finally, breaking me out of my morose stupor and causing me to laugh.

"Ha, no definitely not," I decided. "Besides, it's just a couple more hours and then you'll be back on your feet saving people in no time."

"Yeah, I suppose," he agreed tiredly. "Be a lot easier now that that mountain lion's put down." I smiled tightly.

"Well, you know what they say. Constant vigilance."

"True," the sheriff replied, but before either of us could say anything else, Stiles returned with the steaming bowl of chili.

"Okay, lunch is served. Courtesy of the Bennets." He handed his father the bowl and a spoon, placing a stack of napkins next to him and a glass of water on the bedside table. "You good?"

"Now that I have a bowl of chili? Yes, Stiles, I am very good. Thank you."

"Good for you," Stiles shot, jerking his head towards the door in a gesture to follow him.

"Uh, enjoy," I offered with a grin. "Hope you're feeling better."

"Yeah. Thank you, Sadie," the sheriff responded firmly, making sure I knew that it was gratitude for the chili, for the visit, and for speaking about my father.

"See you around, Sheriff," I bid as I walked out with a smile, and Stiles closed the door behind me.

"So was that it, the chili? Or uh…?"

"Well, I kinda wanted to talk to my friend too," I said, raising my eyebrows at him. Stiles nodded shortly with a grin.

"Good. I mean, okay. Come on." He led me around the house to what I assumed was his bedroom door, which he quickly closed before I could see inside. He turned to look at me nervously. "Uh…stay here for a second." Then he bolted inside and shut the door in my face. I rolled my eyes as I heard him clattering around in the room.

"You know I told you I'm fine with the mess," I called to him through the door.

"Y-Yeah," he called back. "But, still you know…I should probably…I've never had a…" he trailed off as I heard a loud bang from the room, followed by a string of curses. Finally, he opened the door again, hand rubbing his head tenderly. "Okay, yeah, come in."

Everything about the room seemed to scream "Stiles" for some reason. The walls were a pale blue, covered with posters from various bands we'd discussed, with a darker blue on the moldings around the doors and windows. His bed sat cattycorner on the left, sheets unmade and with a shelved headboard with random items scattered across it. His dresser and closet were on my left, both open with clothes hanging out of them, along with a small pile of laundry that had haphazardly been shoved half into the closet. There were a few shelves along with walls, loaded with pictures and trophies and other knick-knacks. Stiles's desk sat on the right wall under the window, covered with papers and notebooks and pens and game pieces, all swarming the area around his computer. Still, it was a little neater than Scott's had been, where everything just sat in a pile, untouched. There were a few books and pieces of clothes scattered across the floor, and his desk chair was pulled out into the middle of the room, but overall, it wasn't bad. Stiles drummed his hands on his legs as he watched me look around walking up to a blue splattered canvas hanging over his dresser.

"This an original Stilinski piece?" I asked, inspecting the few art projects that seemed to have merited being hung up. Stiles coughed behind me.

"No laughing," he ordered from behind me. "Just because we can't all paint lifelike flowers doesn't mean I didn't try, miss artsy…face…" I chuckled.

"No, no. I like it," I assured him, completely honest, and I caught his slight sigh of relief behind me.

"So uh, what's up?" he asked, collapsing into his desk chair. I stared at the picture for a moment longer, not really sure what to tell Stiles.

"I was just over at Scott's," I informed him, and I could sense him tense up even though he was sitting behind me.

"What?!" he demanded. "But-!"

"He needed to know that I knew," I reasoned, turning around to face him full on. "I just stopped by to let him know that I was…aware of the situation and that I still want to help." As grateful as I knew Stiles was that I was still on the boys' side, he seemed too focused on his anger to care that I felt okay dropping by unannounced on his werewolf best friend.

"But my dad-!" he argued, but I cut him off.

"Stiles, you know that wasn't his fault."

"He could have stopped it!" Stiles barked. "Okay?! What use are his stupid werewolf powers if all he's gonna do with them is go running around the forest with his girlfriend?! He's got a gift and he's not using it to help people and that's just wrong!"

"Stiles," I said soothingly, perching myself on the corner of his bed across from him. "Scott's still a kid, okay? We all are. And he's still trying to learn to control this thing without any help. You can't expect him to suddenly become a superhero." Stiles glared at the ground, jaw clenched. I knew he knew I was right, but he didn't want to admit it. "Look," I coaxed. "Scott knows that turning off his phone was a stupid idea, a mistake he hopefully won't make again. But that's it. It's a mistake. And you have to let him try and make up for it, cause he's your best friend."

"I'm not talking to him," Stiles growled, glaring at the floor.

"Fine," I huffed, standing up. "Then I'm not talking to you."

"What?!" Stiles head whipped up, staring at me with wide eyes. "You're taking his side?!"

"I'm not taking anyone's side," I replied, walking to the door. He stumbled after me, trying to catch up. "I think you're both being stupid, so until you two are talking to each other, I'm not talking to either of you."

"Come on, Sadie! Wait!"

"I'm not the one you should be talking to," I called over my shoulder. "Neither of you did anything to me. Scott was an idiot for not picking up his phone, and you're being an idiot for blaming him for something that wasn't really his fault. Talk to each other."

"Sadie," he groaned as we reached the door. I turned around, a pleasant and victorious smile on my face.

"You didn't want me involved," I reminded him, cocking my head to the side and resting a hand on his shoulder. "And I'm not getting in the middle of you two. I'll see you at school tomorrow." Without another word, I walked back to my mother and the car. I heard him call after me once or twice, but I ignored him, climbing into the van. Mom eyed me suspiciously as she glanced back and forth between my composed, determined face, and Stiles calling my name on the porch.

"Are you sure everything's okay?" she asked skeptically as Stiles trudged inside.

"Perfect," I chirped. "Thank you for driving me. We can go home now."

I'd meant what I said about not talking to the boys. The next morning, Scott gave me back my notebook in English and I replied with nothing but a smile and a nod. I'd reverted back to my behavior at the beginning of the year, trying to avoid Stiles and Scott at all costs while still being friends with Allison. I finally got to talk to her on Monday morning, after she'd been grounded all weekend and unable to talk. I convinced her to have lunch with me and Lydia, who had also returned to school. We skimmed over the details of our attack at the video store, obviously not wanting to dwell on it but needing to explain why my arm was currently in a sling. Allison hadn't heard a thing about the attack, so the whole story was news to her. Then she recounted her day with Scott, how he'd convinced her to skip school so no one else would find out about her seventeenth birthday—she gave us a pointed look—and they'd ended up going to walk around the woods all day. Lydia was disgusted at Scott's idea of a date, but Allison insisted that it'd been the perfect day. Also, she'd gotten a chance to try out her new hunting boots, which she thanked me for profusely. Besides the nifty silver pendant she'd gotten from Kate, the boots were one of her favorite gifts.

I found that lying to her and Lydia, even Jackson who was more suspicious than both of them combined, was a lot easier than I'd expected it to be. It was just another acting job. Act like you don't know about werewolves, like you don't know what's going on, and no one will expect you to. I found it was actually harder to keep myself away from Scott and Stiles, now that I knew what was going on. But I kept my word, and Monday and Tuesday I didn't speak to either of them. Instead, I filled my time reading everything I could get my hands on about werewolves. I wanted to be prepared, and I figured Stiles and Scott had a couple weeks of experience on me. That's what I was doing late Tuesday night when I heard a tapping at my window.

The first time, the noise hardly registered. The second tap did make me look up, glancing over at my window to see what was causing the noise. It wasn't until the third pebble hit my window frame that I actually got up to see what was going on. I walked over cautiously, peering out into the black night. I opened the window, hoping that if I didn't have the glare on the glass I might be able to see outside. I leaned slightly out, glancing around the backyard for the cause of the disturbance.

"Sadie!" I heard in a harsh whisper, a figure stepping out of the shadows. My eyes darted over to find Scott standing timidly in the yard.

"Scott?" I asked, and I could just make out his head nodding. I sighed. "Look, the whole pebbles at my window thing is very romantic, but I think you should keep this stuff for Allison." Scott grinned sheepishly.

"I know you're not supposed to be talking to me, but I didn't know what else to do," he excused.

"How about a phone call?" I suggested, slightly annoyed.

"Derek broke my phone," he explained, causing me to raise my eyebrows.

"Derek?" I asked, and he nodded again.

"Can I come up?" I bit my lip in deliberation, before finally caving.

"Walk around to the front," I instructed, before closing the window and quietly making my way downstairs. Scott was digging his heel into the stoop when I opened the front door. I held a finger up to my lips as I eased the door closed and led him back upstairs, trying to keep my steps light and to the edge of the stairs so they wouldn't creak. Scott followed my lead, and we were able to get back to my room without making a peep. I quietly shut the door to my room, turning around to find Scott eying the flowers painted on my walls.

"Seriously?" he asked shakily, pointing at the wolfsbane. I smirked.

"A complete coincidence. I'm not gonna slip you roots or anything. Werewolf friendly zone, promise." Scott nodded warily, and I imitated his actions from the other day, pulling my desk chair around to my bed and gesturing for him to sit. I climbed back into my bed, tucking my legs up so I was sitting cross-legged in front of him. He still looked nervous, clearly shaken by whatever had happened.

"How did you know which room was mine?" I asked, trying to ease the tension.

"Uh, lucky guess?" he tried, and I gave him a pointed look. He smirked. "I could hear your typing."

"My typing's that distinctive?" I inquired.

"And your heartbeat," he added.

"Ah," I responded, nodding. "Yeah, that's gonna take some getting used to."

"You have no idea," he agreed, eyes wide, and I smirked.

"So, what happened?" Scott took a deep breath, leaning his arms on his knees, which seemed to be a habit of his.

"I was out grocery shopping for my mom earlier," he explained. "And I dropped some stuff while I was trying to find the car. But when I picked the milk back up it had claw marks in it, and I heard growling, so I thought it was the Alpha. So I started running, and I set off all these car alarms so he wouldn't be able to hear me, only then my phone went off and I found out it was Derek chasing me."

"Why?" I asked, and Scott tossed his hands a bit.

"I don't know! He says it's part of my training." I tilted my head to the side, nodding.

"That's actually a pretty good idea." Scott gave me a pointed look. "What? If the Alpha attacks you it's not gonna give you a warning. It's a little impractical, but I can see why Derek would want to teach you with surprise attacks."

"He's not even sure if he can teach me," Scott went on. "Something about how I was bit and he wasn't."

"He was born a werewolf?" I prodded, and Scott nodded. "Well that makes sense. He's been learning to control this his whole life, it's never been new for him. And he's not exactly a people person. I bet it's like trying to teach someone born without legs to walk for him."

"But I have to learn how to control it," Scott whined in frustration. "He said I have to get angry, get rid of distractions, which means no Allison. And then he threw my freaking phone against the wall and smashed it." I winced.

"What'd you say?"

"I told him that if he could teach me, I'd stay away from her." I snorted, and Scott raised his eyebrows. "What?"

"You're not gonna be able to stay away from her," I concluded, and he ducked his head with guilt. I rolled my eyes. "You already went over there, didn't you?" He looked up at me pitifully.

"I had to tell her my phone was broken," he pleaded.

"Yeah, sure," I agreed sarcastically, nodding in exaggeration. "Bet that was a real interesting conversation." Scott was obviously too pleased with whatever had happened to be bothered by my jab.

"Anyway, her aunt interrupted us and Allison had to shove me in the closet." I snorted again, but Scott went on with worry. "I think her aunt wants her to be a hunter," he continued, clearly anguished at the idea. Stiles had mentioned to me that Allison's family were hunters, and that Kate had been the one to shoot Derek with the wolfsbane bullet after she'd been attacked by the Alpha. So far, the knowledge hadn't changed my relationship with Allison at all, but I hadn't gotten the chance to go over her house since, as she was grounded. "They started talking about some French legend where her ancestors killed a big wolf that'd been on a killing spree."

"Oh! Uh, uh the…la bête de…de Gevaudan?" Scott stared at me in awe.

"Why do you know that?" I shrugged.

"I've been doing a lot of reading the past few days. But yeah, I can see how mentions of the hunting business might have been unsettling." Scott nodded in agreement.

"So after her aunt was finally gone, I left, and I was walking to my car when there was like, something in the bushes. And I started apologizing, because I thought it was Derek…"

"No," I cut him off, shaking my head. "No way it was Derek." Scott tossed his arms out again.

"Seriously, how do you know that?!"

"Well, because if you'd disobeyed me and gone to your girlfriend's house after I said not to," I reasoned, "I would probably keep my super werewolf hearing as far away from her bedroom and physically possible." Scott winced, but slowly began to grin as he started thinking about Allison's bedroom again. "Okay, stop, so rustling in the bushes. What was it?" Scott snapped back to reality.

"It was the Alpha," he answered shakily. "It chased me into my car, and I thought it was gonna kill me, but instead it just traced this spiral on my back window."

"A spiral?" I asked in confusion, and he nodded.

"He was really angry too," he added. "I don't suppose you know what that means, do you?"

"No," I replied, shaking my head. "Sorry."

"Derek won't tell me," Scott groaned, and I raised my eyebrows again.

"When'd you talk to him?"

"He waiting for me when I got back to my house, like a creep," he said, shivering a little. "I can tell that he knows what it means. He like, perked up, you know? And he buried his sister under a spiral too. But all he'd say was that I don't want to know what it meant." He groaned, resting his head in his hands. "I just don't know what to do."

"How long did he say you had to stay away from Allison for?"

"For now? He said at least until the full moon."

"Okay," I nodded. "So you stay away from her for a week. You're both grounded anyway."

"What about school?" he asked desperately. I shrugged.

"We'll figure something out."

"But what do I do about Derek?" he moaned. "He doesn't know if he can teach me, and I don't know if I can trust him."

"I say go for it," I suggested honestly. "He's not the one who bit you, he hasn't killed anyone, and he wants to help you control your powers. You might have to ease back on your romantic relationship a bit, but at least you won't hurt anyone." Scott looked up at me sadly.

"That's not what Stiles thinks."

"Well, Stiles isn't here," I replied. "I mean, I can try and tell you what he _would_ say." I cleared my throat, hunching forward a little bit and trying to do my best Stiles impression. "Dude, Derek?!" I smacked Scott on the upside of the head. "No! Okay? We are not trusting Derek. Have you seen that guy? He threatened to rip my throat out and cut my head off! No way. We're gonna figure out something else. Derek-free plan, come on." Scott laughed, and I relaxed back into my own personality with a smirk.

"That was actually really good," Scott snickered, and I mock bowed from my seat.

"Look, I know you two probably have your own reasons for not trusting Derek, which I completely do not understand. But for now, I think he's your best shot." Scott nodded reluctantly.

"Thanks for talking to me," he said solemnly. "It's just…with Stiles…I didn't know who else to go to…" I smiled sadly.

"No problem," I assured him. "I really hope you two start talking soon. It's kind of hard to stay away now that I know what's happening." Scott smirked.

"I'm pretty sure that's the opposite of how you're supposed to feel." I returned the grin.

"Go home, Scott," I instructed, getting up off the bed and walking to the bedroom door.

"Actually," he interrupted, pointing at the window. "I got a better idea."

"Right," I agreed, closing my mouth after a few seconds. "Werewolf." Scott chuckled, opening my window and carefully positioning himself before he flipped out. I ran after him, leaning outside to watch him land on his feet in a deep crouch. He stood up, dusting himself off and waving up at the window. "I'll see you tomorrow," I stage whispered, and he nodded.

"Thanks, Sadie." And a few seconds later, he'd disappeared into the darkness.

I sighed as I shut my window again, turning out the lights and returning to bed. Life would definitely be a lot more hectic with Scott and Stiles as friends. I was sure I was signing up for a lot of danger and sleepless nights. Realistically, I should have been enjoying the normality while I had the chance. But when I crawled back into my bed and noticed the glowing screen of my laptop, I shook that rational thought off.

"I'll just finish the article," I muttered to myself, settling back into my pillows and picking up where I had left off one page three…of thirty.

* * *

**A/N: Hey there! So another sort of filler chapter. I did throw up guys a little Sadles, but for the most part I guess this was pretty Scott centric. Things are about to get crazy, so I really felt like I should solidify their relationship. I've heard once or twice that you all liked her relationship with Scott, so I hope you all liked this chapter!**

**Thank you for all of the follows, favorites and reviews! I'm glad to know you're all relieved to know Sadie knows. Thanks to all of my usual and new reviewers: CypherToorima, (that's so sweet thank you!), Tired and Inspired, realityalways-getsintheway, ScornedxRose, bbymojo, fighter61998, XxElementBenderxX, becca1130, Lojo2014o (you're so awesome, why are you so awesome?! :) ), xxxxninaxxxx, RealHuntress18, and Isaac fan (THANK YOU for commenting on the bit in Lydia's room! It was one of my favorite parts to write, but the werewolf enlightenment seemed to outshine it!) Please keep up the amazing response! The more you say, the quicker I write. Thank you all again for reading!**

**-Brittney**


	14. Chapter 14

The next morning I got dressed for school the happiest I had been all week. Today, the sling finally came off. No itchy black fabric pinning my arm to my chest, throwing a wrench in my outfits. I woke up a little earlier so I could enjoy my time in the shower, stretching my arms out in front of me, and letting the water run down my back without the annoying sling strap. To celebrate the absence of the bulky black item, I decided to wear one of the brightest shirts I owned, a plain, vivid pink blouse with a fairly serious V-neck. I paired it with a charcoal skirt, and a pair of knee high boots Lydia had been trying to get me to wear for over a week. It felt amazing to be able to do my own makeup again, which meant that I went all out with eyeliner, eye shadow and some lipstick. The cuts on my face were still healing, but I'd removed the butterfly bandage and replaced it with a flesh colored bandaid I could cover with my hair. It felt great. In fact, it was wonderful. I finally added my dog tags and leather jacket before practically bouncing downstairs, ready to put my right arm to use again.

And when Lydia Martin and I strolled down the hall, both completely recovered, Beacon Hills took notice. It was like the first day of school all over again. Several girls I'd never even spoken to complimented Lydia on everything from her blue top to her silver bag, and congratulated me on my recuperation. Lyd was soaking up the attention, as usual, but I was glad to slip away to Allison's locker. People didn't stop noticing me all together, but I garnered probably less than half the attention without the famed strawberry blonde at my side.

"Someone's looking perky," Allison observed as I skipped up to her locker.

"That is because I am free," I replied airily, waving my right hand around in the air while the left held my books. "Free as a bird." She shook her head at my antics.

"Fine, little birdy," she giggled, forcing my body around so we could walk to English. "Fly this way." I let her steer me into the English classroom, smiling at Scott and Stiles as she pushed me back to my seat. I watched as Scott tensed while Allison tried to start a conversation with him, and was about to try and distract her when I was distracted myself.

"So you're sling-free," Stiles noticed from my left. I grinned at him with tight lips, nodding my head once but refusing to speak. "How's it feel?" he asked, trying to trick me into speaking. I simply held up a hand, giving him the thumbs up. He deflated. "Come on, Sadie," he hissed, trying to keep his voice down even though Scott would be able to hear regardless. "This is ridiculous!" I nodded in agreement, jerking my head towards Scott's seat to let him know it was really their fight I thought was ridiculous. Stiles twitched in frustration, flailing a bit before settling back in his chair. He faced front as the bell rang, glancing over at Scott once or twice before the lesson began. But that was the only sign I saw that he might be considering talking to his best friend again.

That's why, when I walked into chemistry and saw the boys sitting side by side in hushed conversation, I nearly stopped walking in shock. I placed my books down next to Lydia and quickly strode up between them, standing quietly until I was noticed. Stiles noted my presence first, stopping midsentence to look at me. Scott turned around as well, wearing a small smile.

"Hey, Sadie," he greeted, but I didn't respond. Stiles groaned.

"Sadie, we're talking again, so you know if you could drop this whole silent cold shoulder thing, that'd be-!" I cut him off by smacking both boys upside the head. "Ow!" Stiles squeaked, and Scott groaned. Before either of them could say anything else, I held up my hands.

"You two are both assholes. I'm glad you're talking again." I swiftly walked back to my seat, plopping down next to Lydia, who was eying me with amusement. "What?" I asked, opening my lab book.

"Nothing," she mused, twirling her hair around her finger as she followed suit. "I just love watching my little creation take charge." I chuckled, rolling my eyes as she attempted to take credit for my own personality. Typical Lydia.

When class was over, I packed up my things as fast as physically possible before allowing Stiles to grab my left arm and drag me out of the room with him and Scott. We burst into the cafeteria some of the first people there, and Stiles ushered us to a table in the farthest back corner on the room. With a firm hand on my shoulder he forced me into a chair, shoving Scott down on the other side of the table. Stiles dropped his backpack on the chair next to me, claiming his spot before going into command mode.

"Okay, you two stay here," he ordered. "I'm gonna go up and get a double order of lunch, and we can all share."

"Um, why aren't we allowed to get our own lunches?" I asked, half-raising my hand as if we were in class and sharing a look with Scott.

"Because," Stiles replied, "you're sitting with us today, and if Lydia sees you she's gonna drag you away. Scott needs to stay away from Allison. So, seeing as I'm the only person not hiding from anyone, I'm gonna get us lunch. Scott, gimme your money."

"What?" Scott groaned. "Why does it have to be my money?"

"Because I'm still mad at you," Stiles shot. Reluctantly, Scott pulled a few bills out of his wallet and handed them over. "Okay, sit tight kids." I turned over my shoulder as he walked away, watching the brightly colored plaid shirt recede to the other side of the cafeteria. When he'd reached the food, I turned back to Scott.

"So if he's still mad at you, why are you talking?" I asked, causing him to shrug.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I was talking to him about Derek in history. That's the only reason I got him to turn around. He says he's gonna help me learn to control my powers so I don't need to go to Derek, but I guess he still hasn't forgiven me."

"Give him time," I said bracingly, patting Scott's hand on the table. "He has to come around eventually." Scott nodded morosely, but his eyes widened when he glanced towards the flood of people entering the room.

"Shit, Allison," he muttered, and dove down under the table. I rolled my eyes, twisting my body to face the opposite wall and praying that Lydia wouldn't be looking too hard to find me. A few seconds later, Scott tentatively resurfaced, pulling his history book out of his bag and opening to a random page. He balanced the open book on its end, then sunk down behind it, hiding his face so that every once in a while he could peer over it to check on Allison. I shook my head, glad that my back was to the rest of the cafeteria so I didn't have to resort to the same measures.

"Wow, Scott," Stiles snapped when he returned, dropping the tray full of food on the table between us. "That's a class A disguise. Good job. She'll never know you're there."

"It's the best I've got," Scott whined, peering over the book and scanning the cafeteria once before snatching a chicken tender.

"If you're gonna hide behind a book, at least make yourself useful," I scolded, grabbing a book from my bag and sliding it over to him before pulling out my own.

"Uh…how is reading about mitosis supposed to be useful?" Scott asked, glancing down at the biology cover of the book while I opened a calculus book.

"They're not textbooks," I pointed out in a bored, singsong voice. Scott shared a look with Stiles as he opened to a random page.

"Chapter Three: Effects of the Moon's Phases?" Scott read out loud. "What is this?"

"It's _The History of Lycanthropy_," I explained, opening my own book on the lore of wolfsbane to the last marked page.

"What, the library book?" Stiles asked, leaning across the table to get a better look.

"No, it's my copy." I looked up from my book when I felt both boys staring at me. "What? I went to the bookstore this weekend."

"Why is it pretending to be a biology book?" Scott asked, flipping back to the cover as if to make sure he had read it correctly. I stared at him in incredulity.

"So you don't have to explain to everyone why you're reading an ancient book on werewolves?" I explained as if it was obvious. "Geez, how have you two even survived up to this point?" Scott shook his head but grinned, sinking down behind the new book and hopefully reading a line or two. Stiles simply stared at me from my right.

"That's genius," he complimented, his mouth hanging slightly agape. I smirked, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye.

"I know."

"Okay, so," Stiles started, getting back to the topic at hand. "Apparently Scott was an idiot last night and told Derek that he was gonna let him train him."

"I know," I repeated, causing Stiles to freeze.

"What do you mean you know?"

"I mean, I already know," I rephrased slightly.

"I went to Sadie's last night after the whole Alpha encounter," Scott explained, peeking up over the top of the book. Stiles stared in disbelief, glancing back and forth between the two of us.

"I thought you weren't talking to either of us!" he accused me, and I shrugged.

"Not communicating when there's an actual problem was what got us into this mess," I explained, keeping my eyes on my book though I could feel Stiles's boring a hole into the side of my head.

"O-Oh, well fine then," he huffed, crossing his arms on the table. "Talk to him about werewolf stuff but don't talk to me, that's fine. What if I had had an actual problem?"

"Did you?"

"W-Well, no, but-," he stammered, but I cut him off.

"Then it's not a problem." Stiles pouted, glaring between the side of my head and the book that was covering Scott's face.

"You know what? Fine. I don't care. I'm not talking to either of you for the rest of this meal," he declared with finality, before whipping out a notebook and settling down to work on his plan, muttering curses under his breath.

For the next few minutes, I continued reading my book, snatching a chicken tender every now and then while Scott hid and Stiles doodled away in his notebook, evidently something he did when he was thinking hard. He was playing with an apple in his left hand, but besides that he'd hardly touched his food. It was this odd fact that prompted me to speak up.

"Hey, you okay?" I asked, despite being previously informed that Stiles would not be talking to me.

"Mhm," he responded absentmindedly, still looking down at the paper and apparently too wrapped up to realize that he was breaking his own resolution. "Why?"

"You haven't eaten."

"I had a couple pieces of chicken," he waved me off, tossing the apple in the air and catching it once more.

"Stiles, I've seen you eat," I pointed out skeptically. "You usually stuff your face like a pig."

"Yeah, and it's comments like that that have caused me to rethink my dietary habits," he snapped. "Now sh." I rolled my eyes, taking a sip of my water and returning to my book. "Speaking of food, now that we're speaking I'd like to express my gratitude for the chili you brought over and inform you that it was extremely delicious," he added formally, evidently still trying to be angry with me.

"You're very welcome," I replied, just as properly, still looking at my book.

"Good. _Now_ sh." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him turn to the door of the cafeteria, watching closely and with slight longing as Lydia exited the room. "Okay, so Sadie's safe," he commented, turning back to Scott and I. He did a double take at the fake biology book that was hiding his best friend, as if he'd forgotten it was there. "I think the book's making it more obvious," he scolded Scott, grabbing the top edge and tugging it back so he could see his face. He glanced behind us, adding, "Besides, she's reading anyway." Scott peered over the top of his book, glancing curiously down at the notebook Stiles had been scribbling in.

"So did you come up with a plan yet?" he inquired.

"I think so," Stiles answered shortly, taking a bite out of the apple he'd been playing with.

"That mean you don't hate me now?" Scott asked hopefully.

"No," Stiles shot him down immediately. "But your crap has infiltrated my life, so now I have to do something about it." He glanced over at me, and for a second I caught a sparkle in his maple brown eyes. I smirked slightly, recognizing the rephrasing of my own words as I'd tried to convince him to tell me about the events at the video store. "Plus," he went on. "I'm definitely a better Yoda than Derek."

"Okay, yeah, you teach me," Scott agreed hurriedly.

"Yeah, I'll be your Yoda," Stiles replied, emphasizing the reference once more.

"Yeah, you…be my Yoda," Scott conceded, with a tone that suggested he was holding in an eye roll.

"Your Yoda I will be," Stiles repeated in a high voice, already chuckling at his own imitation. He smiled proudly as I snickered into my hand. "I said it backwards-," he started to explain, but Scott interrupted.

"Yeah, I know," he informed us, clearly not appreciating the joke. Stiles glared at him.

"Alright, you know what? I definitely still hate you," he concluded, closing the book in front of me as he leaned back in his chair. "Uh-huh! Oh yeah!" He grabbed my books from the table, including the one in front of Scott's face, tucked them under his arm, pulled his backpack onto his shoulder and grabbed my arm. "Come on, Sadie," he said, barely giving me time to grab my bag before he was tugging me out of the cafeteria, leaving a frantic Scott behind.

"That was mean," I scolded him as we walked, but I hadn't done a very good job at covering my laughter.

"Yeah, well he deserves it," Stiles sighed, steering me down another hallway, hand still wrapped around my forearm.

"So what's the plan?" I asked.

"You know how I said I read that transformations can be triggered by the pulse rising?" he reminded me as we walked, and I nodded. "Well, I figure that means his wolf powers have to be linked to his pulse some how. He learns to control his heart rate, he learns how to control the shift."

"Okay," I agreed, nodding in understanding. "So how do we monitor his heart rate?"

"With our handy dandy heart rate monitor," he replied. I cocked an eyebrow.

"Do we have a handy dandy heart rate monitor?"

"Not yet." Stiles pulled me to a stop in front of the gym, turning to face me full on. "Ready for your first mission as part of Team Wolf?"

"Yeah," I replied instantly. "What do you need?"

"I need to…borrow Coach Finstock's phone and heart rate monitor from his office," he informed me, handing me my books, which he was still carrying under his arm. He straightened my jacket, brushing my bangs out of my face as he fixed me up. "You're the distraction."

"What exactly am I supposed to do?"

"I just need you to get Finstock out of his office for a couple minutes."

"How am I supposed to do that?"

"Well," Stiles mused, shrugging his shoulders. "I was kinda hoping you might have an idea, Miss Academy Award." I bit my lip, looking around as if waiting for some sort of idea to jump out from behind a garbage can. After a few seconds, I froze, a vague plan beginning to form in my mind. I peered inside the gym door, finding it completely empty except for a crate of dodgeballs that had been dragged out for a future round of high school's most vicious sport. I rocked back on my heels, eyes darting back and forth in front of me as I tried to think the details of the plan through. "What?" Stiles asked, catching the look. "What? You got something?"

"Yeah, I think so," I nodded. "There're two entrances to Finstock's office, right?"

"Yeah, one in the gym and one in the locker room."

"Okay. I'm not sure how much time this is gonna buy us, so get ready to run in from the locker room when you hear the signal."

"What's the signal?" he asked, wide eyes causing me to smirk.

"Finstock screaming," I replied simply. "Ready, Stilinski?"

"Are you, Bennet?" he grinned and I nodded. "Okay, then let's go." Stiles walked around to enter the locker room, and I gave him a minute to get in position. I propped the door to the gym open and quickly and quietly walked inside. The door between Coach Finstock's office and the gym was open. That would be good, as I didn't have to worry about making myself too loud. Carefully as I could I lowered my bag to the ground, pulling out a couple books and papers and spreading them strategically around the gym floor. Then I walked back to the crate of equipment, picking up one of the balls from the top and testing the weight in my hand. I took a deep breath and then, bracing my foot on the side, I knocked the whole crate over. The metal made a loud clanging noise as it hit the gym floor, the sound echoing off the gym walls. Barely letting the sound register, I dropped the ground, lifting the edge of the crate just enough to pin myself underneath it.

"What the hell was that?!" I heard Finstock scream from his office, and a moment later he burst out into the gymnasium. I held my breath as he looked at the opposite wall, sitting up just enough to chuck the dodgeball at his head. It narrowly missed him, skimming his wild hair and causing him to shout out, turning around to face me. But I was already back on the ground, face screwed up in pain as one hand held the back of my head. The other grasped at the bars of the crate, desperately trying to pry it off me. "Bennet!" he yelled when he spotted me. "What the hell did you do?!"

"I didn't do anything," I groaned, attempting to sit up but failing. I hissed, my hand flying to the cuts on my head. "Except get viciously knocked over by some lacrosse player."

"What?!" Finstock demanded, storming over to pull the crate off me. "Who was it?!"

"I didn't really get a good look," I winced, finally managing to prop myself up on my elbows now that the hunk of metal had be removed. Then I dropped the bomb. "I think I saw Greenburg run out that way."

"Greenburg?!" the coach demanded, immediately fuming even at the name. Without waiting to clean up the equipment or check if I needed medical attention, Coach Finstock scooped up the nearest dodgeball and sprinted for the door to the hallway. "I'll teach you to mess with gym equipment! Get back here, Greenburg!" I waited a couple seconds to make sure he'd stay gone before picking myself up and dusting off my skirt. I peeked into the office to find Stiles rummaging through the desk drawers, barely containing his laughter.

"_That _was beautiful, Sadie," he commended, glancing up at me as he searched.

"Thanks for the approval," I chuckled, leaning on the doorframe. A few moments later, Stiles sprung to his feet, brandishing the heart monitor strap in his hand.

"Aha!" he cheered, and then snatched the coach's phone off the top of his desk.

"So did I pass the test?" I asked, walking back into the gym. Stiles followed me, shutting the drawers he had inspected and making sure everything was back in its place.

"With flying colors," he assured me. "Now let's get your stuff and get outta here before he realizes that Greenburg's on the other side of the school." Stiles helped me collect my books and pages from the gym floor before we fled from the room. He paused to duck inside the locker room once more, returning with a heavy looking duffle bag and his lacrosse stick just as the bell rang. Together, we walked to study hall to meet up with Scott.

"Was that really necessary?" he demanded when we found him outside the door. "Allison found me and practically chased me down the hall! I had to duck into a bathroom!"

"Wow, that's rough," Stiles replied flatly, hoisting the duffel bag higher on his shoulder. "Shut up." Scott sighed and glanced at me sadly, clearly wounded by Stiles's harsh attitude.

"What's the plan?" he asked finally, dropping the subject of Allison.

"It's a surprise," Stiles replied grumpily, starting to walk away and leaving Scott and I to scramble after him. "We just need something to restrain you with."

"Restrain me?" Scott asked nervously, and I smirked.

"Easy," I replied, jogging past Stiles and down the hallway. I leaned against the wall briefly, glancing up and down the hallway as it bustled with people. Then I quickly ducked into the janitor's closet, and a few seconds later I emerged with a roll of duct tape. I casually leveled with Stiles, dropping the duct tape into the duffel bag as we walked.

"Uh yeah," Stiles nodded, sharing a look with Scott. "That'll do it." We walked back the same way we had come, Stiles leading the way outside to the empty lacrosse field. We stopped on the bleachers, though Scott and I remained standing while Stiles sat down, rummaging through the duffel bag. "Okay," he started. "Now…put this on and you hold this." He managed the retrieve the equipment we'd grabbed from Finstock's office, handing Scott the heart monitor and me the coach's phone. Scott eyed the items in confusion.

"Isn't this one of the heart rate monitors for the track team?"

"Yeah, I borrowed it," Stiles replied simply, and Scott raised his eyebrows.

"Stole it."

"Temporarily misappropriated," Stiles snapped. "Coach uses it to monitor his heart rate with his phone while he jogs. You're gonna wear it for the rest of the day." But Scott was hardly listening, staring at my hands instead.

"Isn't that Coach's phone?" he asked. I tossed my head to the side in concession.

"That we stole," Stiles admitted, licking his lips a bit.

"Why?" Scott pushed, clearly not understanding the significance.

"Alright, well your heart rate goes up when you go wolf right?" he reasoned, causing Scott to nod. "When you're playing lacrosse, when you're with Allison, whenever you get angry. Maybe learning to control it is tied to learning to control your heart rate."

"Like the Incredible Hulk," Scott offered, visibly perking up. Stiles just shook his head.

"Kind of like the Incredible Hulk, yeah."

"No," Scott said, full on grinning now. "I'm like the Incredible Hulk." Stiles rolled his eyes in frustration, but I pouted in consideration for a moment.

"Actually yeah," I agreed, causing both boys to look at me. "What? Sweet, timid guy who gains some weird powers from an accident that cause him to get super dangerous when his heart rate goes up? And whose girlfriend's father is trying to kill him? Scott, your whole life's like a cheesy Hulk rip-off." The boys stared at me for a few seconds, mouths slightly agape as they shared another look. "What?"

"You…You just spoke comic book," Stiles explained, eyes wide. I shrugged.

"So?" Scott grinned widely though his best friend still looked dumbfounded. Eventually, he shook himself out of his daze.

"It's…whatever. Just put the strap on." Scott nodded dutifully, lifting up his sweatshirt to affix the monitor. Stiles reached into the duffel bag, this time pulling out the duct tape. He handed me the lacrosse stick, which I twirled around in my hand like a child while he carried the tape and duffel bag to the middle of the field. Scott and I followed after him, coming to a halt when he dropped the duffel, smirking as he ripped the edge of the tape away. "Scott, turn around," he ordered. Scott watched his best friend warily, not comfortable with the sadistic look on his face. Stiles held up a finger when he refused to move, motioning for him to spin. Reluctantly, Scott obeyed. "There's a good boy," Stiles praised, tugging Scott's hands behind him and roughly taping his wrists together. Scott winced slightly in discomfort.

"This isn't exactly how I wanted to spend my free period," he joked uneasily as Stiles ripped off the roll of tape, satisfied that Scott was reasonably restrained. He picked up the bag once more, taking the lacrosse stick from me and nodding a little farther down the field to indicate that I should follow him.

"All right. You ready?" He asked Scott, who was facing us a couple yards away.

"No," he answered nervously, though Stiles ignored the answer.

"Remember, don't get angry. Sadie, come here." I stepped up, allowing Stiles to relieve me of the coach's phone for a few seconds so he could pull up whatever program we needed. "Okay," he instructed. "So this number here is his heart rate, and this bar should slide up as it increases. Just keep an eye on it, and let me know when we're getting somewhere." I nodded, and he turned back to the duffel bag, dumping out a dozen or so lacrosse balls. "And um…stay over here," he added, glancing up at me from under his lashes. "You know, just in case." I sighed, nodding nervously. If we did push Scott to his limit, this would be the first time I witnessed anything supernatural. I'd seen him freak out at the party, and I'd been attacked by the Alpha, but besides that, I didn't have any real experience with the scary end of having a werewolf for a friend. I could only hope I'd handle the action as well as I'd handled the idea of it. "Okay!" Stiles cheered, scooping up one of the lacrosse balls into his net. "Let's get this party started!"

Without a single sign of hesitation, Stiles chucked the ball at his unsuspecting and so-called "best friend." Scott groaned as the ball pounded into his chest, and my hand flew to my mouth.

"Stiles!" I chastised, but he looked far too pleased with himself to care.

"What?" he shrugged off the warning. "Werewolf healing. He'll be fine. Remember, Scott! You're not angry!" He punctuated his statement by sending another lacrosse ball flying at Scott's face. I sighed, looking between the two boys with worry. This wasn't just about helping Scott learn to control his anger. It was about letting Stiles release his. I'd promised the boys I wouldn't talk to either of them until they had sorted out their issues, and while they were talking again, they clearly hadn't. Unfortunately, I was already here and needed to help. So, resigned, I stepped back with Coach Finstock's phone, watching as Scott's heart rate slowly rose higher and higher. Stiles was beaming manically, occasionally laughing or reminding Scott to focus on his heartbeat instead of his anger. Scott usually replied by bouncing a bit on the balls of his feet and muttering to himself with his eyes closed until the next ball met its target.

"Argh! Son of a bitch!" Scott bellowed after a particularly fast ball hit his groin. Stiles grinned.

"You know what?" he mused, flipping the lacrosse stick in his hand. "I think my aim is actually improving."

"Huh, wonder why?" Scott growled.

"One thirty BPM," I called, reading the number off the phone.

"Ah ah ah, don't get angry," Stiles scolded. "Hey, Sadie, you want a go?"

"Uh, no," I replied firmly. "I told you I'm not getting in the middle of this feud."

"It's not a feud!" he defended, but he was still smirking. "Come on! One shot!"

"Yeah!" Scott groaned from where he was still doubled over down the field. "Let Sadie take over for a bit!" I narrowed my eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean, McCall?"

"It means my balls need a break!" I glared at the werewolf's doubt of my aim. Stiles caught the look and, grinning like the Cheshire cat, offered me the lacrosse stick. I snatched it away from him.

"Gimme that," I muttered, tossing him the phone. I twisted the stick in my hand, scooping up one of the remaining lacrosse balls and testing the weight lightly in the net. I took a deep breath and hurled it towards Scott, where it whizzed past him on the left. I saw him relax slightly, clearly relieved that my aim wasn't as good as Stiles's.

"No, no. Come here," Stiles instructed, momentarily dropping the phone onto the duffel bag. He pried the stick from me, scooping up another ball. "First of all, this is how you hold it." He twisted his hands on the stick to emphasize the placement of his hands. "And then you have to step forward this way, hurl over, and follow through." He followed his own instructions, grinning when the ball bounced painfully yet comically off the top of Scott's head. "Okay, now you try." I took the lacrosse stick back from him, awkwardly adjusting my stance, which was harder to achieve in the knee high heels I was wearing. Just as I was winding up, Stiles stopped me. "Okay wait, move your hands." Stiles's fingers danced over mine as he adjusted my grip on the sports equipment, leaving my skin tingling slightly. I hoped Scott was preoccupied with his own pain, as I was pretty sure it was my own heart rate that had decided to go up at that moment. Stiles stepped back, gesturing for me to try again. I took a deep breath, and trying to keep all of his tips in mind, I hurled the ball at Scott. It landed with a sickening and satisfying thump as it wailed into his chest. He stumbled back, wincing and muttering under his breath while Stiles howled with laughter. "Ha! Sadie's got some juice!" I tried as hard as I could not to smile at the praise. This wasn't a funny situation. Stiles, and now I, was pelting Scott with lacrosse balls under the premise that we were helping him learn to control his heart rate, when we were really just taking out our anger on him. That could not be a healthy display of aggression. Unfortunately, I was still smirking as I chucked the next ball and it hit Scott in the shoulder.

While Stiles's tips had helped me a little, I still clearly wasn't lacrosse material. After a few more hits and misses, Stiles took over once again so he could abuse Scott some more. He really was improving, which was great for him but bad news for Scott. I settled back behind him, watching as Scott's heart rate grew dangerously rapid. A few minutes later he was practically pleading for mercy, begging with Stiles to just give him a minute. But Stiles wasn't listening. Another ball to his stomach sent Scott toppling over, collapsing onto his knees with his face in the grass. My eyes widened, and I ran up to Stiles, grabbing his shoulder as he tried to pick up another ball to peg Scott while he was down.

"Stiles," I breathed, holding up the phone. The bar was completely full, rapidly growing red as Scott's heartbeat hovered around one hundred and sixty BPM, and getting higher.

"Scott?" Stiles called uncertainly. I gasped as Scott groaned, ripping his hands out of the duct tape and slamming the ground in front of him. Stiles arm shot out to shield my body, keeping me behind him in case Scott wolfed out. And it looked like that was exactly what was happening. Scott's chest heaved up and down as he began to hyperventilate, and I could tell he was practically bristling with anger. He could not wolf out at school, even if we were alone on the lacrosse field. There was no telling what he could do, and that was after he slaughtered Stiles and I.

"Scott?" I called this time, and Stiles brandished his arm again to keep me back. But his heart rate was slowing. I watched it drop from one sixty-four to one sixty-three, two, one, now down into the one fifties. "Stiles," I prodded, holding the phone out for him to see. He glanced down nervously, letting out a breath when he saw that the number was no longer on the rise. Tentatively, he approached Scott with me on his heels. But Scott was clearly recovering, his heart rate soon back in the one thirties.

"Scott? You started to change," Stiles said hesitantly, reaching out a hand as Scott collapsed panting onto his side.

"From anger," he breathed, face still scrunched up. "But it was more than that. It was like, the angrier I got, the stronger I felt."

"So it is about the anger," I confirmed, still standing behind Stiles as he crouched in front of me. "Derek's right." I saw Stiles tense slightly at the name, but Scott was too tired to care.

"I can't be around Allison," he breathed.

"Just because she makes you happy?" Stiles asked skeptically. Scott peered up at us from the ground.

"No, because she makes me weak." Stiles and Scott stared at each other for a moment, giving me time to scoop up a lacrosse ball. Standing from full height, I tossed it down so it smacked him in the back of the head. "Ow!" he squealed, arms giving out beneath him as he collapsed onto the ground.

"Don't be such an asshole," I commented, rolling my eyes. "_She makes me weak_? Get a grip. You're lucky I'm not kicking you in the balls for that."

"What?! She does!" he reasoned, rolling onto his back so he could look up at me. I shook my head, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Oh of course, absolutely," I agreed sarcastically, before settling back into a snarl. "She doesn't _make_ you anything, so don't blame her. Learn to control yourself and then you'll be able to do whatever you want with your powers." Scott winced, and Stiles glanced up at me in what I assumed was agreement. I checked the time on the Coach's phone. "Okay, we've been abusing you for basically the whole period. Stiles, get him cleaned up. I'll meet you in bio." Before either boy could argue, I tossed Stiles the phone and walked away. I could feel their eyes on my back as I collected my books and bag, hoisting it onto my shoulder as I marched to the science room to continue my day as if I hadn't just been part of a werewolf training session.

Lydia was predictably livid when I dropped my books on the table next to her.

"Where were you at lunch?" she demanded, and I shrugged.

"Library," I lied easily, but she narrowed her eyes.

"You had study hall right after lunch. Why didn't you go then?"

"Needed two periods," I replied, keeping my eyes on my books. "I'm gonna have to bullshit that history project."

"Why?" she asked. "What are you doing?"

"Right now I'm thinking of saying something about how my great grandmother was the inspiration for Elizabeth Bennet in _Pride and Prejudice_."

"Is that true?"

"I don't know," I replied carelessly. Lydia rolled her eyes with a snort.

"You know a research project is supposed to be based on fact, right?"

"Yes, as I said, I'll be bullshitting it." Stiles snorted as he walked passed our desk at that moment, and I glared playfully at him. "Keep walking, Stilinski." He pouted slightly, collapsing into his chair behind Lydia as the lesson began.

Unfortunately, the crack about my history project had been true. I really had no idea what I wanted to do, which meant buckling down in history instead of chatting with Lydia and Allison. This was both good and bad, because while I wanted to talk to my friends, it meant I didn't have to give Allison outrageous excuses for Scott's evasive behavior. In the end, she was able to corner him in Economics. I'd walked with her and Lydia from history, filing in right behind Stiles's colorful button down shirt as Finstock yelled at us all to move faster. I wondered vaguely if he was irate because he hadn't been able to find Greenburg, or maybe because he hadn't been able to find his phone. Whatever the reason, he hardly gave me a second glance when he saw me, simply dropping his books on his desk up front. I went to walk to my normal seat, but when I saw Scott's panicked, desperate face, I grabbed for Allison's arm.

"Uh, come on," I suggested. "There's a free seat over here."

"I gotta talk to Scott," she excused, pulling away from me and plopping down in the seat behind her boyfriend, which Stiles had been trying to steal. We both threw Scott apologetic looks, sitting instead in the row next to them, Stiles in front of me. I watched as they conversed awkwardly, Scott trying to duck out of the conversation without making her upset. But Allison was determined, and continued to talk to him until Finstock started class.

"Let's settle down," he instructed, though Scott and Allison had been the only two talking. "Let's start with a quick summary of last night's reading." A couple hands flew into the air, while the rest of us avoided eye contact. "Greenburg, put your hand down. Everyone knows you did the reading," the coach spat. Yup. Still upset about the gym incident. "How bout…McCall!" Everyone turned to Scott as he looked guiltily up from his notebook.

"What?"

"The reading," the coach prompted, leaning on the front of his desk.

"Last night's reading?"

"Nah, how about uh, the reading of the _Gettysburg Address_?" A couple laughs scattered across the room as Scott continued to look confused.

"What?"

"That's sarcasm. You familiar with the term 'sarcasm,' McCall?" Scott nodded, glancing back at Stiles and I.

"Very," he shot with a slight glare, absent mindedly rubbing his head where I'd pegged him with the last lacrosse ball. Stiles tossed his head to the side, smiling proudly and holding a fist down by his chair, which I bumped lightly with a smirk. Scott rolled his eyes and turned back to Finstock.

"Did you do the reading or not?"

"Um…" Scott stalled, flipping his book open, then closed again. "I think I forgot."

"Nice work, McCall," Finstock shot, scrunching up his nose and lowering his voice. "It's not like you're averaging a D in this class. Come on, buddy. You know I can't keep you on the team if you have a D." Scott gave an almost imperceptible nod. "How about you summarize the previous night's reading?" At that moment, I became aware of the light, familiar beeping sound of the heart rate monitor. I quickly leaned forward, unnoticed as Finstock's attention was focused entirely on Scott, and smacked Stiles on the arm.

"Turn the volume off, dumbass," I hissed. He jumped slightly, slowly sliding his hand into his pocket and pulling out the coach's phone. He quickly muted it, but kept it out, and we both watched as Scott's heartbeat began to rise steadily from the high nineties. The coach was still grilling him.

"No? How about the, uh, the night before that? How bout you summarize anything you've ever read? In your entire life!"

"I…uh…" Scott stammered, and Stiles sagged back towards me, resting a hand on his forehead.

"No?" Finstock demanded. "A blog? H-How bout, uh, how bout, uh, the back of a cereal box? No? How bout the—the—the adults only warning from your favorite website that you visit every night? Anything?" Scott slid down in his seat, shaking his head, and I bit my lip as the number grew higher and higher. "Thank you, McCall. Thank you. Thank you, McCall!" the coach yelled, pounding his hand on the desk with every word. "Thank you for extinguishing any last f-flicker of hope I have for your generation! You just blew it for everybody! Thanks! Next practice you can start with suicide runs!" I stopped breathing as the number hit one hundred and sixty, the point where he had started to shift on the field. But then something miraculous happened. The number dropped. Not just slowly went down, but showed an immediate, significant drop. "Unless that's too much reading," the coach was still pushing. Stiles and I shared a brief look of confusion before glancing over at Scott. Finally, I looked at Allison, who was leaning forward on her desk, holding Scott's hand to comfort him. I glanced from their clasped hands to Scott's suddenly calm face, a slight smile on my face. Stiles looked back to make sure I was seeing the same thing before shaking his head. He stuffed the phone back in his pocket, almost annoyed by the simple solution. I was amazed we hadn't thought of it sooner honestly. Sure, Allison could make his heart race, but she was also able to calm him down. The fact that she could do both was the reason she was his girlfriend in the first place.

When class was over, Scott and Stiles sped out of the classroom without a word, leaving a very frustrated Allison behind in the hallway. Lydia narrowed her eyes after them.

"Okay," she mused, "who lit their desks on fire?"

"I don't know what's going on," Allison sighed, running a hand through her hair. "It's like he suddenly doesn't want to talk to me, or even be near me."

"I'm sure that's not it," Lydia said soothingly. I shifted my bag higher onto my shoulder.

"I'm gonna go talk to him," I said shortly, nodding my head. Allison looked up with wide eyes.

"What? No! You can't!"

"I can and I will," I replied. "He doesn't get to just brush you off like that. I want an explanation too. You two go ahead. I'm gonna try and get some answers." Allison nodded reluctantly, and I dashed after Scott and Stiles. I finally caught up to them in another hallway, where I assumed the felt like they were safely out of earshot of Allison. Stiles was looking around the hallway, and pulled Scott to a stop when he saw me. He waited until I'd joined up with them before turning back to Scott.

"It's her," he explained shortly. Scott raised his eyebrows, looking between Stiles and me.

"Sadie?" he questioned. "What are you talking about?"

"It's Allison," I elaborated. "She's what keeps you calm."

"Remember what you told me about the night of the full moon?" Stiles jumped in. "You were thinking about her, right? About protecting her?"

"Okay," Scott nodded, following so far.

"Remember the night of the first lacrosse game?" Stiles went on. "You said you could hear her voice out on the field."

"Yeah, I did," he replied looking up.

"Well, so that's what brought you back so you could score! And then after the game in the locker room, you didn't kill her!" Stiles pointed out, before adding bitterly, "At least not like you were trying to kill me."

"What we're trying to say," I interrupted, before Stiles could remember that he was angry at Scott again, "is that she brings you back. She calms you down."

"No, no, no, but it's not always true," Scott disagreed, shaking his head. "Because literally every time I'm—I'm kissing her or—or touching her…" Scott trailed off when he looked at me, suddenly remembering that he had company and it wasn't just boy talk any more. I was about to point out the fact that Allison could both console him and rile him up, but Stiles beat me to it.

"No, that's not the same," he said immediately, waving his hand. "When you do that you're just another hormonal teenager thinking about sex, you know?" I looked to Stiles, yet again taken aback by his clear reasoning. Scott, standing next to me, didn't seem to be able to tell the difference between thinking about Allison emotionally and physically. And I didn't really blame him, I mean that's the way most high school boys were. But then here was Stiles standing on my other side, clearly drawing a line between the two and trying to explain it to his best friend. It was… I thought for a few seconds over what word to choose, before I forced myself to choose 'refreshing.' I'd gotten so caught up in staring contemplatively at Stiles that I completely missed the stupid grin Scott had on his face until Stiles called him out. "You're thinking about sex right now, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Scott laughed sheepishly, ducking his head and looking at me apologetically. "Sorry."

"It's fine," I waved him off. "Teenage boy, urges, whatever. I just don't want _you_ giving me details."

"What do you mean me?" Scott asked, raising his eyebrows. I smirked.

"It's not like Allison and I don't talk about you," I baited, even though every detail I'd gotten from Allison I'd literally had to drag out of her. Scott looked caught between horror and excitement.

"You mean-?" he started, before Stiles stepped between us.

"Okay!" he called, ending the conversation. "Look, back in the classroom, when she was holding your hand, that was different, okay? I don't think she makes you weak," he braced, glancing at me to show he agreed with my earlier point. "I-I think she actually gives you control. She's kind of like an anchor."

"You mean because I love her," Scott offered casually, causing my jaw to drop.

"Exactly," Stiles replied casually. Scott caught my awed look and furrowed his brow for a moment in confusion. Then he thought over his pervious statement, and his eyebrows flew up to his hairline.

"Did I just say that?" he asked me.

"Yes, you just said that," Stiles replied, clearly not impressed. But I grinned, nodding slowly as the smile spread over my face. Scott mirrored my actions.

"I love her," he repeated, still turned to me, as if testing the phrase on his tongue.

"That's great," Stiles interrupted, "Now moving on…"

"No, no, no, really," Scott cut him off, glancing back and forth between the two of us in excitement. "I think I'm totally in love with her." Stiles let out a frustrated sigh, so Scott turned to me for support. Suddenly, he seemed to remember just who I was. "Oh my God, Sadie!" he freaked, eyes flying open. "You can't tell her! Y-You guys talk about me! So, so, so you can't tell her I said that! I mean what if she doesn't love me?! Sadie! What do I do?!"

"Sh, sh, sh, Scott," I hushed, resting my hands on his shoulder as he went into a panicked daze. "I'm not gonna tell Allison anything, okay? I'm here for advice, and I'm playing both sides, but your feelings for her are between you two. You tell her in your own time, and you can deal with it then. I promise, I'm not gonna say anything." Scott nodded slowly, catching his breath.

"I'm in love with Allison," he repeated again, grinning.

"That's great," I replied, smiling earnestly.

"And that's beautiful," Stiles interjected, tired but at least mildly amused. "Now, before you go off and write a sonnet, can we figure this out, please? Because you obviously can't be around her all the time!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, sorry," Scott agreed, shaking off the majority of his lovesick daze. "So what do I do?"

"I don't know…yet…" Stiles sighed, wiping a hand down his face and spinning on the spot. He stomped his foot into the ground and suddenly looked up at the ceiling. Scott, knowing him longer, was able to spot the dangerous sign first.

"Oh no. You're getting an idea, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Stiles replied, brow still furrowed as he planned it in his head.

"Well, that's good, right?" I asked, looking between the two. Scott shook his head slightly.

"Is this idea gonna get me in trouble?" he asked.

"Maybe," Stiles nodded, finally looking up.

"Is this idea gonna cause me physical pain?" Scott pressed, still bitter about the lacrosse balls.

"Yeah, definitely," Stiles replied instantly. "Come on." The two boys began to walk away, and I stood still for a moment looking after them. I knew that I couldn't blame them. It'd been just the two of them for so long, but still. Being ignored was a little annoying. I let them walk the complete length of the hallway, waiting for either of them to turn back, or glance around as if they suddenly remembered my existence. But neither did. I huffed, about ready to go to the parking lot and find Lydia, when they rounded the corner. Suddenly Stiles's head popped back around, staring at me with urging eyes and waving widely for me hurry along. I rolled my eyes, marching after them as they headed down the next hallway and outside to the side parking lot.

"What are we doing?" Scott asked nervously as we walked into the brisk fall air, hands stuffed in his pockets.

"You'll see. Hold on," Stiles replied, waving him off as we rounded the corner to see one of the older students climbing out of a sleek black truck. Stiles sprung into action, turning to face Scott and I. "Okay. Stand right there," he instructed. "Do you have your keys?" Scott nodded, pulling his hand out of his pocket with his house keys in his palm. "Perfect," Stiles cheered quietly, snatching both the keys and Scott's empty hand. "Hold 'em up, like so." He positioned Scott's hand around the keys so he was holding one particular end up, then glanced over his shoulder. "Now, whatever happens, just think about Allison. Try and find her voice like you did at the game. Got it?" Scott nodded, bemused, and Stiles sighed nervously. "Okay. Just…keeping holding it right there," he repeated, grabbing Scott's arm with the key. He sighed again, pulling me over to him and wrapping an arm around my shoulder as he pulled me away. "Now whatever you do," he whispered, reaching his free hand into his pocket, "do not say anything about what I am about to do."

"What are you about to do?" I asked, hugging my arms around my waist.

"Something really stupid," he replied, shaking his head as he pulled his own keys out. He guided me over to the truck and slid his key across the sleek black side. My hand flew over my mouth, willing myself not to gasp or draw any attention to us as the very big owner was standing just a couple of feet away. When the scratch was completed, Stiles dropped the keys back into his pocket, tugging me faster and farther away from the car.

"Stiles," I growled in warning, but before I could do anything to stop him, he'd turned us around. I got a look at Scott's horrified face for barely a moment before Stiles yelled out.

"Hey, hey, hey, dude!" he called loudly, his arm wrapping tighter around my shoulders. "What do you think you're doing to that truck, bro?" That did the trick. The older students at the school door whirled around, glancing from Stiles and I to Scott, to the truck's marred side and back to Scott.

"What the hell?!" the owner bellowed, before he and his three friends all rushed Scott.

"Ow! My God, wow!" Stiles groaned as the leader punched Scott square in the jaw. I leapt forward to help him, but Stiles just managed to hold me back, wrapping his arms around my waist.

"Stiles!" I struggled. "We have to go help him!"

"He's a werewolf!" he grunted as I kicked him in the shin. "He'll be fine!" He shifted me to one arm so he could pull Coach Finstock's phone out of his pocket. "Come on, stay calm," he muttered, watching the number and glancing back up at the fight. "Ooh, that's not okay." I growled, thrashing harder.

"This is all because of some stupid payback mission?!" I yelled, ramming my arm into his chest and making him cough. "God you boys are so _stupid_!"

"I'm not stupid!" Stiles defended, forced to hold me back with both arms once more and squealing when I stepped on his toes with my boot. He relinquished me, grabbing for his foot, but instead of running to Scott I rounded on him.

"Yes you are!" I screeched. "You realize that Scott could have been angry at you for talking to me?! But you know what?! He got over it because he took the time to understand your situation! And now you're sitting back letting him get the shit kicked out of him and pretending it's because you're trying to help him?! Because you figure you can get away with it because he's special?! That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard! So just suck it up and stop acting like a child!"

"Stop! Stop it right now!" a new voice yelled. I whirled around to find Mr. Harris storming out of the school, sending the older boys scattering. He watched them run away calmly, before glaring down at Scott, who was crumpled on the sidewalk with a bloody nose. "What do you idiots think you're doing?" I glanced back at Stiles, who was standing slightly behind me, looking guiltily from the lower number displayed on the phone to my livid face. "Mr. McCall and Mr. Stilinski," Harris huffed as he pulled Scott to his feet by the front of his shirt. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Mr. H-Harris, I-!" Scott started, but the teacher wasn't paying any attention.

"Which one of you two keyed this car?" he asked steadily, eying the long white scratch Stiles had left on the vehicle.

"Stiles!" Scott accused immediately, one hand on his nose and one hand pointing at his friend. Stiles held his hands up, then noticed the coach's phone, which he quickly stuffed in his pocket.

"I…well, he uh…it was just…" Stiles stammered, pointing at Scott. I crossed my arms and glared between the two.

"Well," Mr. Harris clipped. "If neither of you are going to take responsibility for your stupidity, I'll just have to keep you both for detention." Scott and Stiles both groaned, Stiles trudging over to the chemistry teacher while Scott covered his still-bleeding nose. "Miss Bennet, you are dismissed."

"Hang on!" I called as he turned to force the boys inside, already hating myself for arguing. "That's it?"

"Excuse me?" Mr. Harris asked, clearly not understanding my objection.

"You're not going to do anything about four seniors who just ran away?" I demanded. Mr. Harris narrowed his eyes, glancing at the car once more.

"I think they've received their punishment."

"Only one of them owns that truck," I argued, stepping closer to the trio, and ignoring the incredulous looks Scott and Stiles were giving me. "Now sure, the boys both deserve to get beat up for being stupid," I spat, glaring at them before I turned back to Harris, "but don't the boys who ganged up on Scott deserve detention too?"

"Miss Bennet, I believe I said you were dismissed," Mr. Harris said agitatedly. Resigned to my fate, I crossed me arms.

"No! This is completely unfair! You can't just give Scott and Stiles detention and ignore the kids who assaulted him!"

"As a matter of fact, I can," Mr. Harris glared. "And I can give it to you for criticizing me! The three of you, inside. Now!" I glared at Scott and Stiles as I brushed past them into the school.

"You shouldn't have done that," Scott said nasally on my right. I ignored the comment, pulling out my phone and texting Lydia to go ahead without me if she hadn't already.

"Thanks, Sadie," Stiles added from my left, and I glared at him.

"That wasn't for you," I snapped. "That was because it was legitimately unfair. You're both still immature and stupid, and you better get over yourselves and your issues because I don't need to be a part of this. If you're both gonna go on like this I'm not talking to either of you." Without looking at either of them I stormed ahead, beating all of my companions to the chemistry room. I slammed my books onto a table, pulling up a stool and opening my chemistry book before anyone else even stepped foot in the room.

"Behind Miss Bennet," Mr. Harris instructed the boys when they finally did enter the room. I glimpsed Scott pause at the end of my table, pausing as if to speak.

"Keep walking," I growled. I heard him sigh as he continued onto the table behind me, where he and Stiles collapsed dejectedly.

We worked in silence for what felt like a lifetime. But I was determined. I was so determined not to show weakness to Scott and Stiles that I didn't even glance up at the clock. I kept my eyes glued to my notebooks, working diligently on my homework to prove that I meant business. The boys couldn't talk, and I assumed that they still wouldn't have even if we were allowed to. However, eventually the silence was broken.

"Excuse me, sir?" Scott asked, his voice no longer strained from pain or a near broken nose. "Uh, I know it's detention and all, but I'm supposed to be at work, and I don't want to get fired." I still refused to look up, but judging by the length of silence that followed Scott's plea, Mr. Harris hadn't been too keen on letting Scott go early. I tossed my hair out of my face, rolling my shoulders and setting back to work. I heard Scott sigh. "You knew I would heal," I heard him state quietly, assumedly to his desk mate. It was quiet enough that both Stiles and I could hear what he was saying, but wouldn't draw attention from Mr. Harris.

"Yep," Stiles replied simply, his voice not nearly as quiet. I rolled my eyes at his lack of finesse.

"So you did that to help me learn?"

"Yep."

"But partially to punish me," Scott observed, causing Stiles to nearly laugh.

"Yeah. Well, that one's obvious."

"Dude, you're my best friend," Scott pleaded after a pause, "and I can't have you being angry with me." A short stretch of silence ensued, and I didn't need werewolf powers to feel the eyes staring at my back.

"I'm not angry anymore," Stiles sighed finally. "Look, you have something, Scott. Okay? Whether you want it or not, you can do things that nobody else can do… So that means you don't have a choice anymore. It means you have to do something."

"I know," Scott admitted quietly. "And I will." There was a pause where both boys considered what else they wanted to say, but the rest was cut short by the vicious chemistry teacher.

"Alright, all of you, out of here," he ordered from the front. Part of me was relieved, as I slowly stood up and began returning my books one by one to my bag. The other part was slightly reluctant, as walking out of Harris's classroom meant facing Scott and Stiles once more. For a moment I thought I was in the clear, as both boys packed up and dashed out of the classroom with rushed thanks. I nodded to Mr. Harris as I left, only to be ambushed by the pair in the hallway.

"Stiles," Scott said formally, turning from me to his best friend at his side. "I'm sorry for ditching school to hang out with Allison when you needed me. I'm sorry for not answering my phone, and I'm sorry that your dad got hurt."

"I forgive you," Stiles replied properly, nodding his head. "Scott, I'm sorry that I had to tell Sadie your secret without your consent, and I'm sorry for blaming you for my dad's injury." He paused, looking at me hopefully. But I continued to glare. "And I'm sorry for pegging you with lacrosse balls as part of your training," he sighed. When my face didn't change, he went on, "And I'm sorry for making it look like you keyed a senior's truck and let you get your ass handed to you. Happy?" I allowed my eyes to drift from Stiles to Scott, giving an imperceptible nod.

"I forgive you," Scott conceded with a small smile, before turning back to me. "Sadie, we're sorry we've been acting stupid and that you got caught in the middle of our fight, and that you need to deal with supernatural problems on top of teenage girl problems now…" He raised his eyebrows hopefully, but I kept my eyes narrowed, crossing my arms over my chest. Stiles threw his arms up.

"Look, we're talking to each other, okay? I'm not mad at him, and I recognize that all my plans were bad ideas and that I got some sort of sick enjoyment out of watching Scott get beat up. We apologized, we accepted it, we're moving on. So can you please drop the whole silent thing now?!" I narrowed my eyes even further, tilting my head slightly as I considered the plea.

"Hug."

"What?!" Stiles whined.

"Hug," I ordered, pointing between the two of them. The boys shared an awkward, exasperated look before they hugged briefly. Stiles pulled away annoyed, as if the action might have cause him physical pain.

"Okay? Are you satisfied?"

"Please, Sadie?" Scott begged, exponentially more polite than his best friend. I grinned.

"I forgive you."

"Thank God," Stiles groaned, throwing his head back. Scott and I chuckled.

"Come on," I said, walking up between the two of them. "Let's get out of here."

"Either of you need a ride?" Stiles offered as we walked out the front doors. He pulled out his keys again, absently picking at the miniscule chips of black paint still clinging to the tip.

"Yeah, thanks," I answered following him as he walked towards the Jeep.

"Scott?" he prompted, but the werewolf shook his head.

"Nah, I rode my bike, and I have to get to work." Stiles shrugged.

"Suit yourself. Come on, Sadie."

"Hey Scott!" I called, quickly jogging back up to him as he paused on his way to the bike rack. "Just so you know, I don't mind. Dealing with all this werewolf stuff, that is. I'm nervous, but I feel a little better now that I know I can be around if you guys need an extra hand. So…if you guys ever need backup, let me know, okay?" Scott smiled warmly.

"Thanks, Sadie," he replied earnestly. I nodded, hugging him briefly before heading back to the Jeep. I climbed into the passenger seat, sending the driver a small smile. Stiles started up the car, but let it sit for a moment before he did anything else.

"We're okay, right?" he asked, looking over at me tentatively.

"You know you're an idiot right?" I asked, raising my eyebrows. Stiles smirked sheepishly.

"I've been reliably informed."

"Then yeah, we're good."

"Good," Stiles said in relief, drumming on the steering wheel. "Then I forgive you for talking to Scott before you spoke to me." I rolled my eyes, grinning.

"Just take me home, Stilinski." He smiled as he put the vehicle into reverse.

"Yes ma'am, Miss Bennet."

* * *

**A/N: I like... I'm not even sure what to say after that episode... So, if any of you are still alive out there, after the whole Derek and Jennifer and the Stiles and Scott scene, I hope you enjoyed the update! It's the longest one so far! Sadie finally getting some werewolf action and keeping the boys in line. I hope you liked the few Sadles moments I buried in there! Please feel free to let me know which ones you liked best!**

**Thank you so, so much to all the new followers, favoriters, and reviewers! I got some great responses! So eternal gratitude to realityalways-getsintheway, CypherToorima, xxxxninaxxxx, KageNoUta27, GetsueiNoYume, becca1130, ScornedxRose, RealHuntress18, LifeToDeath, Lojo2014o, and It Belongs In A Museum. Also to rachellaurenm and masqueraderose3 for messaging me about the story! If you guys have questions or ideas and you don't want to put them in a review, feel free to PM me! I'm always up for talking about the show or where I'm taking the story! Thank you again for reading and your continued support!**


	15. Chapter 15

When I finally got home, I was sure I was going to be in big trouble. I dropped my things in my room and then quietly made my way to my mom's office, where she was working diligently with her head down.

"Uh…hey, Mom," I greeted, causing her to momentarily glance up from her work and throw me a grin.

"Hey, sweetie. What's up?"

"Not much. I just got home."

"I noticed," she nodded, typing furiously. "What held you up?"

"I…" I paused. It'd been my first detention ever, and I wasn't quite sure how my mom was going to take it. "I, uh…had detention." She paused in her typing.

"You had detention?"

"Yeah…" She sat up from her desk, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms.

"What did you do?" I chewed on my bottom lip for a moment, trying to think of a good excuse. I couldn't very well tell her that Stiles had keyed a car and framed Scott because they had a fight over Scott's werewolf powers, and just leaving out that last detail meant I'd have to come up with some other excuse for their huge fight.

"Well…" I started slowly. "Scott and Stiles were just fooling around and Stiles knocked Scott into some senior's truck. I guess his jacket must have left a scratch or something cause the kid freaked out and he and his friends ganged up on Scott."

"Oh my God," she gasped. "Is he okay?"

"Yeah, he's fine," I assured her, beginning to speak rapidly. "Mr. Harris came out to break up the fight pretty quick, but all the seniors ran away, so Scott and Stiles got detention. And Mr. Harris wasn't trying to find the kids who beat Scott up, he just let them go without punishment so I told him that it was unfair to give Scott and Stiles detention when they hadn't really done anything wrong but let the kids who assaulted Scott go, and then he gave me detention." I took a deep breath, biting my lip.

"Oh, well that's fine," my mother shrugged, leaning back over her keyboard.

"F…Fine?" I asked, raising my eyebrows. She paused again, considering me from over the tops of her glasses.

"Sweetheart, I was no angel in school. Everyone I knew got detention at least once. I'm just glad you got it for defending your friends and not something stupid."

"So…that's it?" I questioned, still slightly amazed at my luck.

"Oh, right, punishment," she chirped, crossing her arms. "Okay, let's see…how about…I get your share of dessert tonight, and you do the dishes after dinner?" I smiled.

"Deal."

"Okay then," she nodded firmly, turning back to her computer. "Now, my little delinquent, go do your homework."

I gladly locked myself in my room to finish the little homework I hadn't done in detention. It only took me a little while, leaving me plenty of time to listen to music and play around on the computer. I did end up doing the dishes after dinner, but my mom had caved during dessert and let me have my own share. Thank God, because I had had a pretty stressful day between the fighting boys and werewolf training, and I wasn't quite sure I would have made it without chocolate. I was just returning to my computer when my phone went off in my purse. I raised my eyebrows slightly, but relaxed into a grin when I saw that the number belonged to Stiles.

"Hey, Stilinski," I greeted, collapsing into my desk chair and resting my feet up on the corner of my desk.

_"Hey, it's Scott,"_ I heard from the other end, causing me to furrow my eyebrows for a moment.

"Right, no phone," I remembered. "What's up, Larry?"

_"…Larry…?"_ I rolled my eyes.

"Dude, you seriously need to watch the Wolf Man, stat."

_"Yeah, I'll get right on that,"_ Scott replied, in a tone that told me he was most definitely rolling his eyes.

"Don't roll your eyes at me," I called him out, causing him to chuckle.

_"Look, you know how you said if we ever needed back up you'd be up for it?"_

"Yeah, why?" I recalled, running a hand through my hair.

_"I might need to take you up on that offer."_

"How have you already managed to get yourself into trouble?" I sighed, standing up from my desk and moving over to my dresser.

_"It's Derek,"_ Scott replied. _"He thinks he knows who the Alpha is."_

"Who is it?" I asked immediately, and I heard Scott release a frustrated sigh over the line.

_"Look, we'll explain everything later, but Stiles and I are meeting Derek at the school. I just thought I'd call you to let you know so that…"_

"Come pick me up," I cut him off decisively.

_"What?"_ Scott demanded, taken aback. _"No! Sadie, this is gonna be too dangerous. I just need you to stay by the phone in case something happens."_

"You said you're taking Stiles with you, right?" I asked.

_"Yeah…"_ he replied reluctantly.

"Scott, I'm not letting you idiots get yourselves killed. Come pick me up."

_"Okay, fine,"_ Scott replied after nearly a minute of pure silence sounding worried, but I could tell he was slightly relieved. _"We're on our way."_

I hung up the phone and stood still for a moment, left arm wrapped around my waist, and right arm weighing the phone in my hand, lost in thought. Scott had said it would be dangerous. I didn't know if he meant that meeting up with Derek could be dangerous, because he didn't trust him, or if he and Stiles had another even more stupid plan. But I'd said that I would go. I'd said it in a heartbeat, without even thinking. I'd promised Scott that I was willing to deal with the danger to be supportive. I thought of my mom a few rooms over, typing away on the computer. I knew I shouldn't be going. I wasn't sure if she could take losing me after Dad. But the Alpha was killing people, and there were only a limited number of people in town who could do something about it. I was one of those people. I trusted Scott, and for now there was no reason I shouldn't trust Derek. He at least was an experienced werewolf. And the Alpha had chosen not to kill me once. Why should it change its mind now?

Without letting myself think it over anymore, I placed my phone on the top of my dresser and pulled out the drawers. A skirt and knee-high boots would be impractical for keeping up with werewolves, so I changed into an older, worn pair of jeans and a pair of calf-high combat boots, allowing me to tuck the ends of my pants in. I left the pink shirt on, but threw on a blue zip up hoodie over it, and pulled my hair into a bouncy high ponytail. I slipped my phone into my pocket and stood in front of the mirror for a minute. Yes. This was much more appropriate for running with werewolves. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed one of my notebooks and walked back to my mom's office.

"Hey, Mom?" I asked, knocking on the door lightly. She looked up from her work, and if I hadn't seen her at dinner I might have thought she hadn't moved since I got home. She hummed in response, not looking up from her screen. "Is it okay if I go out for a bit?"

"Where are you going this late on a school night?" she asked, and I bit my lip.

"Just helping some friends with homework. I'm done with mine though," I assured her.

"Can't you help them over the phone or the computer?" she pressed and I sighed.

"Come on, Mom. Scott'll be on academic probation leave from lacrosse if I don't help him, and you know how helpless Stiles can be." And then my mom looked up. She took in my changed outfit and hopeful face before finally giving in and waving me off.

"Okay, fine, go. Don't get into too much trouble."

"I can't make any promises," I replied, and while I was being completely serious, she laughed. "Thanks, Mom. I love you."

"Love you too," she responded turning back to her work. I watched her for a moment, promising myself I'd be okay. Then I jogged down the stairs. I wandered around the first floor for a while before finally deciding to just sit nervously on the front steps instead. It only took a few minutes for the blue Jeep to pull up in front of the house. I closed my eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, and then I stood up and jogged over to the car. Scott had opened the passenger door, but hadn't made a move to get out of his seat. Stiles was glaring at the road, and Scott watched me approach with concern.

"You know this isn't a good idea, right?" he asked when I joined them.

"You two make stupid decisions all the time. I think I'm allowed to have this one." Scott sighed turning away for a moment.

"I'm not kidding when I say this is gonna be dangerous. Derek thinks the Alpha's my boss, so he's got him tied up and beaten. We're gonna try and call out the Alpha to prove him wrong." I stared at Scott skeptically.

"Yeah, you two are idiots."

"Exactly," Scott agreed with a small smile. "And we don't want you to get hurt because of that."

"_You're_ gonna get hurt because of that," I countered. "I'm nott letting you two coax out a vicious werewolf without someone with a brain."

"Hi, yes," Stiles spoke from the front seat, waving at me while his eyes stayed on the road. "This is the brains speaking. You're not coming." I crossed my arms challengingly.

"The brain who thought keying a truck was the best way to test his werewolf-best-friend's powers? Yeah, I don't think so."

"Sadie," Stiles barked, "I'm not letting you in this car."

"Stiles," I replied evenly. "If part of you didn't want me to come, you wouldn't have driven to my house." Stiles sighed with frustration, his knuckles tightening on the steering wheel. When he didn't respond, I turned back to the passenger seat. "Scott, get out of the car." The floppy haired boy turned from me to Stiles and back again. Then reluctantly, he climbed out of the vehicle.

"Scott!" Stiles yelled, banging a hand on the steering wheel. I ignored him, climbing into the back seat. Scott jumped back into the passenger seat, closing the door behind him. Stiles remained motionless for a few seconds, before he spun around and brandished a finger at me. "For the record, I am completely against this idea."

"Noted," I replied with a nod and a small smile. I was honestly touched that the boys didn't want me to go. I knew that this way their way of trying to protect me, but I wasn't going to let them go through it alone. "Now let's got catch an Alpha werewolf." Stiles tightened his jaw, spinning around and putting the car back into drive.

On the way to the school, Scott explained what had happened after he'd left detention. It'd taken him a pretty long time to get to work, and by the time he'd reached the animal clinic it was already dark. He'd walked in to find Derek "questioning" the vet about a dead deer that had been discovered a couple months before, a deer with a spiral carved on its side. Derek had admitted that the spiral was the werewolf symbol for revenge, which meant the Alpha would not stop killing until he was satisfied. Apparently, Derek suspected the vet was lying to him about his minimal knowledge of the animal, which led him to think he was the Alpha himself. He was nearly unconscious by the time Scott arrived, and he'd only been able to stop Derek by wolfing out, surprisingly with complete control. He'd pleaded Derek to meet him at the school, to give him a chance to prove Dr. Deaton wasn't a werewolf. That's where we were headed now, though it seemed like Scott was still working on how exactly he was going to lure the real Alpha out.

The parking lot was eerily empty when we pulled up to the school. It wasn't too late just yet, but it was completely dark out. Dark schools were always creepy, and it didn't help that I was still a relatively new student. Or that I knew we were out baiting a werewolf. Scott held the door open for me when Stiles had parked, lending a helping hand to guide me out before slamming the door behind me.

"This is a terrible idea," Stiles sighed as we gathered around the back hatch to the Jeep.

"Yeah, I know," Scott nodded, glancing around the parking lot.

"But we're still gonna do it?" Stiles asked incredulously.

"Can you think of something better?"

"Well," Stiles debated. "Personally I'm a fan of just ignoring a problem until eventually it just goes away."

"Wait," I interrupted. "So we do have a plan?"

"Not sure I'd call it a plan," Stiles snorted. I glanced between the two of them.

"Well, come on! What is it?"

"I'm…no…" Scott muttered shaking his head.

"Why not?!" I demanded, glaring at him.

"Because it is probably the stupidest idea ever," Stiles explained, "and we don't need you yelling at us about it." I switched my glare over to Stiles, who remained mostly unfazed.

"Just make sure we can get inside," Scott instructed. Stiles huffed, yanking open the back hatch to the Jeep and pulling out a pair of bolt cutters and a flashlight, which he handed to me. I raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Before I could, the sound of another engine met my ears, and I glanced behind me to see a pair of bright headlights approaching. "He's here," Scott said, and Stiles's face scrunched up in disgust. When the headlights cut off, I recognized the sleek black Camaro the Derek had brought to my party. He climbed out of the driver's seat, and glanced over at us. I could see him pause when his eyes met mine. "Where's my boss?" Scott demanded angrily, forcing Derek to look over at him.

"He's in the back," he replied coolly. We all inched a little closer to the car, Stiles and Scott peering into the back seat while I maintained eye contact with Derek.

"Oh, he looks comfortable," Stiles said flippantly, glaring at Derek. I continued to watch him, but I caught Stiles glancing between the two of us uncomfortably.

"What is she doing here?" Derek finally asked, and as the only female present, it was obvious that he meant me.

"She wanted to come," Scott answered, sounding slightly tired.

"And you let her?!" Derek bellowed, taking us all by surprise.

"Trust me," Stiles groaned, glancing over at me, still a little bitter about my presence. "It wasn't our idea."

"Can we just do what we came here to do?" I asked, slightly annoyed at being discussed as if I wasn't present. Scott nodded, turning away to walk towards the school. Stiles shook his head and made to follow him.

"Wait! Hey!" Derek called, still standing next to his own car. "What are you doing?"

"You said I was linked with the Alpha," Scott explained vaguely before turning back to the building. "I'm gonna see if you're right." He started to walk away, and I saw Stiles glance at Derek once more before offering me his hand.

"Come on, Sadie." I stared at his offered hand for a moment, before looking back at Derek.

"No, go on." Scott stopped walking completely, and Stiles stared at me with wide eyes.

"N-No? What do you mean no?!"

"I mean no," I replied simply. "Go on and execute your dumb plan."

"No!" Stiles retorted, clearly fuming. "I didn't bring you here just to leave you alone outside! You're staying with us!"

"I'm not alone," I countered, jerking my shoulder back to indicate Derek. Stiles gave me a pointed look. "Go on, I'm gonna keep an eye on him so he does do anything to the vet." I tossed the flashlight into Stiles's waiting hand. He fumbled for a second before giving me a hard look.

"Stiles," Scott called carefully from behind him. "Come on, man." With one last glare, Stiles turned around, storming up to the school doors. I watched as he angrily cut the chain on the front doors, turning on the flashlight and leading Scott inside. I took a deep breath, turning around to face Derek Hale, who was watching me intently.

"Hi," I said lamely, immediately wincing. Derek's face stayed completely blank as he continued to watch me, hands stuffed in his pockets where he stood on the other side of his Camaro.

"Why are you here, Sadie?" he asked. I pursed my lips together nervously.

"Because Scott and Stiles told me everything about what's going on, and I don't want my friends to get hurt."

"And why are you out here?" Derek pressed, clarifying his original question. I realized that he was actually asking me why I'd decided to stay outside with him instead of sticking with my friends. I was momentarily reminded of Scott, how he'd asked me why I was still around and not running when I visited him at his house. Derek seemed similarly confused, though clearly not because he thought he was a monster. I assumed he'd just gotten used to people thinking he was a monster, to the mistrust he experienced, even with Scott and Stiles. I shrugged.

"I'm making sure you don't hurt the vet," I replied.

"Lie."

"What?" I asked. Derek raised his eyebrows almost innocently.

"Your heart rate spikes a little when you're lying." I let out a breath of air, allowing my cheeks to puff out.

"Right," I conceded, tossing my head to the side, and sticking my hands in my own pockets. "Werewolf hearing."

"So, why are you really out here?" Derek asked, slowly strolling around to the front of his car. I watched him, still slightly wary, but he didn't come any closer. I assumed he could hear my silent hesitation.

"I wanted to talk to you," I admitted, taking a few steps closer to him myself. I wasn't afraid of him because he was a werewolf, but I was still uncomfortable around the mysterious, admittedly gorgeous older man. Derek nodded for me to go on. "Why do you know who I am?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, looking honestly confused.

"When you came to the library," I elaborated. "You already knew who I was. Why?"

"Werewolf hearing," he replied simply. When he realized I was still clueless, he continued, "Allison said your name when you were trying to convince her not to let me drive her. I heard it." I couldn't remember whether or not that was true. The conversation had happened long enough ago that the details were fuzzy. I moved on.

"Why'd you visit the library, then?"

"I was following Stiles," Derek confessed easily. "I needed to know how much he knew about the situation, since Scott was relying on him for information." I nodded slightly, accepting that part of the answer.

"And what about the whole, creepy 'I'll see you around' thing?" Derek shrugged innocently.

"Isn't that a pretty common saying?" I narrowed my eyes.

"You didn't have to flaunt your flashy werewolf eyes at me," I pointed out, referring to the camera incident.

"You said I needed a library card," Derek dismissed, and I glared.

"You also didn't have to let me know you knew my name." Derek looked over at me again. I'd wandered a little closer, arms crossed over my chest. I was a good couple inches shorter than him, but I held myself as tall as I could. He considered me for a moment before finally nodding slightly.

"You stood up to me when I tried to give Allison a ride home," he stated, now leaning against the back of Stiles's Jeep.

"Yeah?" I replied, raising my eyebrows. "You were some weird older guy we didn't know. I wasn't gonna let her just walk away with a stranger. You're _still_ a weird older guy I don't really know, actually." Derek came very close to smirking.

"You seemed smart enough to figure it out. And beings friends with them, I figured you'd get involved sooner or later."

"So all the hints you were dropping," I clarified, "you were toying with me?"

"If that's what you want to call it," Derek replied, glancing back towards his own car.

"Well, sorry to disappoint," I sighed. "I didn't put it together myself." Derek turned back to me, leaning his shoulder on the Jeep as I rested my back against it.

"But you knew something was going on, despite the fact that everyone was lying to you. You convinced Stiles to tell you. That couldn't have been easy." I nodded slightly, staring at the ground in front of me.

"I kind of had to bribe him," I divulged, thinking back to Lydia. "And it helped that he was freaked out by the fact you came to talk to me at school." Derek rolled his eyes.

"I told you I wasn't trying to hurt you," he snapped. "I just needed to see how much you and your friends knew."

"I know," I assured him, causing him to look back down at me. "But Scott and Stiles don't seem to trust you."

"I know," Derek said moodily, flipping back so his back was against the Jeep. He crossed his arms over his broad chest.

"Why not?" I asked, turning my head to look over at him.

"I guess it's because I'm a weird older guy they don't really know." He said it with a completely straight face looking dead ahead, and the complete disconnect from the line caused me to laugh loudly. I raised a hand over my mouth, snickering as the initial sound echoed around the empty parking lot. Derek smirked.

"But really," I reasoned, lowering my hand once I'd composed myself. "As far as I can tell, you haven't killed anyone, and you seem to want to help Scott gain control and stop the Alpha. So…I'm not really seeing a reason not to trust you…"

"Yeah, try telling them that," he sighed, shoving his hands back in his pockets.

"I am," I informed him honestly, causing him to look over at me again.

"Thanks," he muttered, before tearing his eyes away, focusing on the license plate of his Camaro.

"So, that's it then?" I asked. "The only reason you were interested in me was because you thought I seemed pretty smart?" Derek was silent for a few seconds, continuing to stare ahead and then staring at me for a few seconds.

"That's it." I momentarily wished I were a werewolf myself so I could tell if he was lying. His face was completely emotionless, a solid mask with two light, piercing eyes. It was unfair, I thought, how Derek seemed to be able to stare right through me, but he was still an unfathomable wall of stubble and leather to me. A wall that I seemed to trust, despite the fact it could lie straight to my face without detection.

I was about to ask him about the long pause when a horrible noise ripped through the air. I couldn't quite think of a good description of it, as I jumped and let out an embarrassing sort of squeal. It sounded somewhere between a small child screaming and a cat being steamrolled, I decided. My head whipped back and forth, looking for the source of the sound so I could shut it up as soon as possible. Derek closed his eyes in exasperation.

"You've gotta be kidding me," he mumbled, shaking his head and sighing as the sound finally faded away. I stared at him in horror, noting how he seemed completely calm.

"Was…Was that Scott?" I asked alarmed. Derek didn't answer verbally, instead raising his eyebrows and pinching the bridge of his nose, as if he could feel a headache coming on. I took that as a yes. "Well that was…" I trailed off, not exactly sure what to call it.

"Pitiful," Derek finished for me. I had to agree.

"What is he trying to do?" I asked. The older werewolf sighed, sliding a hand down his face.

"Howl to communicate with the Alpha," he explained.

"Via the school loudspeaker?" I questioned, eyebrows high. "Yeah, they were right. That's pretty goddamn stupid." Derek looked about to agree with me, until another noise split through the air. But it was nothing like the first one. This was low and loud, a thundering roar more than a high pitched squeal. It sounded purely animal, and I froze where I stood. Derek's arm actually reached out to cover me, pushing me back against the Jeep. For a terrifying moment, I thought it was the Alpha. My eyes darted back and forth, looking for the bright red eyes that had been haunting me for the past week. But then Derek stepped forward in awe, keeping a hand on my shoulder as he walked around the car to stare up at the school. I followed his gaze, suddenly realizing the true source of the sound. "Scott…" I whispered, but it was barely audible over the howl. After a few more seconds, it finally faded away, leaving the remaining silence even heavier and more eerie. Derek and I stood completely still, staring up at the school for a solid minute before either of us broke out of our trances.

"Are they out of their minds?!" Derek bellowed, roughly ripping his hand off my shoulder as he stormed away. He paced around his car once, chest heaving with anger. I watched him warily, but reminded myself that he'd been a werewolf his whole life. He wouldn't accidentally shift out of anger, even if he was growling under his breath. I held my silence, pressing myself into the back of the Jeep so as to avoid his rage. Thankfully, the boys seemed to have run back to the parking lot, because in less than half the time it took them to get to the office, the doors of the school were flung open. Derek and I both spun around, me peering around the corner of the car as Derek stormed back to me. "I'm gonna kill both of you!" he threatened, jabbing a finger at each boy in turn. "What the hell was that?! What are you trying to do, attract the entire state to the school?!"

"Sorry," Scott apologized half-heartedly. He was clearly too proud of himself to be truly apologetic. "I didn't know it would be that loud."

"Yeah, it was loud," Stiles agreed, looking between the three of us with a huge grin. "And it was awesome!" I rolled my eyes at the singsong reply, but smirked just the same.

"Shut up," Derek ordered, and Stiles frowned.

"Don't be such a sour wolf," he baited. But Derek's tone had set me off. I looked up at him, noting that his face was blank again, but not the composed mask it was before. He seemed completely concentrated, worried even. I eyed him with caution, my legs tensing as my stomach tightened. "Sadie, you okay?"

"Fine," I breathed, glancing over at Stiles for a moment, just long enough to see him watching Derek and I with concern.

"I thought you said you were gonna keep an eye on him!" Scott yelped suddenly. "What'd you do with him?!"

"What?" I asked quickly, snapping over at Scott with confusion. But Scott wasn't looking at Derek or me. Instead, he was staring at the window of Derek's car. I wheeled around, my jaw dropping as I realized that Derek's side door was open, the passenger seat pushed forward and the back seat empty. I glanced back at the boys in fear.

"I didn't do anything," Derek said quickly, looking between the three of us.

"Right," Stiles snapped sarcastically, but I shook my head.

"Guys, Derek didn't do anything. I was with him the whole time." Scott and Stiles stared at me for a moment in confusion. And then suddenly, I was flying towards them.

"Sadie! Go!" Derek had launched me away from him, and I collided awkwardly with Stiles, who fumbled to catch me and keep a hold on the flashlight at the same time. I twisted around and all of the breath left my body.

Derek was suspended up in the air, blood dribbling down his chin and eyes wide with pain and panic. A low growl ripped through the air, and I finally caught sight of the terrifying red eyes glowering at Scott, Stiles and me as the Alpha's claws suck farther into Derek's back. I vaguely heard Scott and Stiles yelling next to me, but I was momentarily frozen, my eyes flashing back and forth between Derek's lolling head, his bloodstained shirt, and the bloodthirsty eyes watching me.

"It's him!"

"Oh my God!"

"Run!"

I was literally yanked back into reality by a hand on my arm. It ripped me backwards, the only thing keeping me moving and the only thing keeping me on my feet. I stumbled, quickly regaining my ability to run even in my mental fog. I registered the school doors being ripped open in front of me, and I was thrown inside, then yanked back, an arm around my shoulders. The smell of cheap cologne and curly fries brought me out of my daze. Stiles had me tucked firmly against his side, attempting to hold one of the school doors closed with his free arm wrapped around the handle rod and his foot braced against the pole between the two doors. As soon as I was conscious of the situation, my hands flew up to the bar as well, attempting to keep it shut against all odds.

"Lock it! Lock it!" Scott ordered frantically.

"Do I look like I have a key?!" Stiles squeaked.

"Grab something!"

"What?!"

"Anything!" he yelled back, tugging on the door with all his might.

"Guys, guys, stop!" I demanded, slamming my hand on the bar. The boys stopped yelling, but then something even worse happened. Stiles face went blank, the way it did when he got a horrible, horrible idea. His arm momentarily tightened around me before he stood up, his hand on my shoulder forcing me to stay low. I watched as he peered out the window, pushing his hand off so Scott and I could look too. I glanced around outside, where the Alpha was suddenly nowhere in sight. What was in sight, however, was the set of bolt cutters.

"No," Scott said, as soon as he realized what Stiles's plan was.

"Yes," Stiles replied, pushing me into his friend, who instinctively wrapped his arms around me. Stiles retracted his arms from my shoulder, leaving my stomach in a knot of worry.

"No! Stiles, don't!" Scott pleaded. It wasn't until Stiles had started to push the door open that I was able to clearly grasp what was going on. My hands sprung out, fingers grabbing desperately at the fabric of his jacket and pulling him back.

"Stiles!" I yelped, and if I hadn't been so worried, I might have cringed at how terrified I sounded. "You are not going out there!" Stiles stared at me for a moment, and I could see his eyes trail from the healing cut on my head around my face.

"Stay inside," he ordered quietly, before he slipped out the door.

"No!" I jumped for the handle, but Scott suddenly tightened his arms around me. "Scott! No! Let me go!"

"You can't go out there!" he hissed, trying to hold me still and watch Stiles through the window. I desperately peered out, glancing around frantically as Stiles crept down the steps to the sidewalk, where the bolt cutters lay nearly forgotten. Suddenly, a shine of silver caught my eye. I pressed my face to the glass, holding my breath so I could see through the clear window. Still wrapped around the handle of the door was the chain used to lock it from the outside. I doubled my efforts to break free, finally elbowing Scott in the stomach. He gasped, arms loosening enough that he had to release me.

"Sadie!"

"Shut up!" I hissed. I opened the door again as quietly as I could, just enough to get my arms through, and began working furiously to unwind the chain from the door. I was about one wind away from freeing it when I felt Scott try and pull me back, his hand fisting the fabric of my hoodie.

"Sadie, come back!" he screamed, banging on the other door with his free hand. "Come back! Stiles!" My head snapped to the left, past the spot where Stiles was crouching to see the Alpha crawling out from behind the Jeep.

"Stiles!" I screeched, and both he and the beast leapt up. Stiles began sprinting full speed back towards the building, and I ripped the chain loose from the door handle. I ducked back inside holding the door open long enough for Stiles to fling himself inside before slamming it shut. Stiles rammed one handle of the bolt cutter behind each door's handle bar, and then I pushed him aside, wrapping the chain around all of the different handles as tight as I could manage. Then we froze, each of us panting heavily as we waited for the Alpha to pound against the doors and try and break in. But it never did. Slowly, we all stood, peering through the windows at the outside world. Once again, the Alpha was nowhere in sight.

"Where'd it go? Where is it?" Scott asked frantically. Stiles reached around me, prying the flashlight from Scott's hands so he could shine it out the window. "Where'd it go?" Stiles pointed the light out both doors, but it was clear that nothing was there. We began to inch away from the door, staring at it with apprehension, as if any second the doors would buckle and the Alpha would burst through. "That won't hold, will it?" Scott asked skeptically as he looked at the bolt cutter and chain contraption. Stiles looked between the two of us.

"Probably not," he conceded. He did a double take when he glanced back at the doors. "W-Wait a… Where did we get chains?"

"From the other side of the door," I growled, turning to face him. Now that the immediate danger seemed to be gone, I was free to think about just what a terrible idea Stiles's plan had been, creeping out into the open to grab the bolt cutters when the Alpha had just speared Derek. But we were alive, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to hug him or slap him across the face. "What the hell was that?!" I screeched instead, bounding forward and slamming my hands into his chest, forcing Stiles back into the wall. "You could have died! That thing could have slaughtered you in front of us and there was a solution right on the other side of the door!"

"I'm sorry!" he squeaked, hands up in both surrender and defense as I closed in. Scott grabbed my arms once more, keeping me a safe distance away so I didn't do anything I might have regretted.

"If you just thought for like two seconds! God, Stiles! You almost died!"

"I had to do something, Sadie!" he yelled, pushing his body off the wall and back into my face.

"Guys, stop!" Scott pleaded, still holding me back.

"Yeah! Something reasonable! Something that didn't involve dangling yourself in the open in front of a fucking werewolf!"

"Sadie! I-!" But whatever Stiles was about to way was cut off by a loud howl echoing through the hallways. We all froze, exchanging glances for a moment. Well…at least we knew where it was.

A second later, the three of us were bolting down the hall, a sliding and colliding mass of bodies. Scott skidding into a classroom on our right and, grabbing my hand for a moment, Stiles tugged me after them.

"The desk!" he shouted, and the three of us swarmed it. We were only able to slide it a few inches, the high pitched grating sound tearing at my ears, before Stiles threw up his hands. "Sh, stop, stop." We glanced at the empty doorway, all gasping for breath. "The door's not gonna keep it out," Stiles reasoned, pointing to the hallway behind him.

"I know," Scott agreed, still leaning over the desk.

"It's gotta be your boss," I panted, staring down the wall directly across from me.

"What?" Scott asked, shooting me a look. But Stiles was nodding in agreement.

"Deaton?" he prompted angrily. "The Alpha? Your boss!"

"No!" Scott contended weakly.

"Yes!" Stiles hissed. "Murdering psycho werewolf!"

"That can't be!" Scott defended his boss, desperation filling his voice.

"I'm sorry, Scott," I said, glancing over at him as calmly as I could.

"Come on," Stiles argued. "He disappears and that thing shows up ten seconds later to toss Derek twenty feet through the air?! That's not convenient timing?!"

"Oh my God," I breathed, eyes wide as I stared down at the desk. "Derek…" But the boys paid me no attention.

"It's not him," Scott maintained, shaking his head.

"He killed Derek," Stiles replied, cause Scott and I to both desperately shake our heads.

"No!" Scott cried. "Derek's not dead! H-H-He can't be dead!"

"He's a werewolf," I said shakily. "He'll heal."

"Blood _spurted_ out of his mouth, okay?!" Stiles snapped at me. "That doesn't exactly qualify as a minor injury!"

"That doesn't matter!" I barked back at him. "It's not just for broken bones and bruises! Derek's strong and in control, so he can handle healing a lot more than Scott! And—And he's been a werewolf his whole life, s-so it's gotta take a lot more than that to take him down!" Stiles rolled his eyes, sensing the desperation in my voice and dropping the subject.

"Well you know what? I can't heal, okay?! And neither can you! That thing may or may not have killed Derek, and we're next!"

"Okay! Just…" Scott rasped, trailing off frantically. "What do we do?!" Stiles breathed deeply, staring first at his desperate best friend and then me, standing shakily by his side.

"We get to my Jeep," he instructed. "We get out of here. You seriously think about quitting your job. Good?" Scott and I exchanged a brief look before nodding. Stiles jerked his head once, grabbing the still-shining flashlight from the desk and running over to the windows, Scott and I on his heels. Stiles peered out the window, gauging the distance to his car, while Scott immediately tried to push the window open. I moved to help, but Stiles rested a hand on my shoulder. "No, they don't open. The school's climate controlled."

"Then we break it," Scott hissed, looking back at Stiles and I as he stilled.

"Which will make a lot of noise," his friend replied weakly, the flashlight glowing up into his face.

"Then…Then we run really fast," Scott reasoned, whining slightly when he saw just how far the Jeep was. "Really fast…"

"Okay," I sighed, pacing away from the window with my hands on my head. "Okay, we move to a different classroom, a closer classroom, smash that window and make a break for it." Stiles groaned, obviously not liking the plan that much. But he never got the chance to contest it.

"Stiles, what's wrong with the hood of your Jeep?" Scott asked, face still glued to the window.

"What do you mean? Nothing's wrong," he replied, glancing over with worry.

"It's bent!"

"Like dented?!" Stiles questioned, as we both rushed to Scott's side.

"No, I-I mean bent!" Scott stated firmly. I peered over his left shoulder at the parking lot. Sure enough, there was Stiles's Jeep, the hood a mangled mess of rippled metal. It was hard to tell what the actual problem was from a distance, but it seemed pretty safe to assume it was _not _drivable.

"What the hell…?" Stiles started from behind me, but once more his question was cut off.

There was an almighty crash as the window next to us shattered. I screamed and fell to the ground, one of Scott's arms across my chest and keeping me close to the wall while Stiles half-dived over me, shielding my body from the scattering shards of glass. I whimpered slightly into my hands, peering through my fingers and praying that I wasn't about to find out that the Alpha had crashed through the window. In that way, I was lucky. Instead of a werewolf crouching in the middle of the room, I saw a battered black box, wires sticking up from either end and claw marks decorating the front. Stiles moved the flashlight onto it in horror.

"That's my battery." It came out as almost a growl instead of the frightened sound I felt like making. Apparently the Jeep was now _definitely_ not drivable. I panicked when Stiles moved to get up, grabbing his sleeve rapidly.

"Don't," I begged. Stiles looked back at me, clearly freaked but at least with a level head.

"We have to move," he explained calmly.

"He could be right outside!" Scott argued.

"He _is_ right outside!" Stiles hissed back. I leaned my head back against the wall, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath.

"Just let me take a look," Scott's voice pleaded, and I assumed Stiles must have agreed, because Scott retracted his arm from across my torso and I could sense him inching up next to me.

"Anything?" Stiles inquired from my right.

"No."

"Move now?"

"Move now," Scott agreed quietly.

"Sadie," Stiles whispered next to me. "Come on. We gotta go." My eyes fluttered open as I felt him slip his free hand into mine. He was watching me steadily, maple eyes pleading me to move. I swallowed thickly and nodded, carefully standing up amidst the floor of glass. He squeezed my hand reassuringly, and the three of us snuck into the hall again. Stiles shone the flashlight in both directions, trying to figure out which way was best.

"This way," Scott murmured, taking a few steps to the right.

"No, no, no, no," Stiles stopped him, holding the arm with the flashlight across his chest.

"What?"

"Somewhere without windows," he advised.

"Every single room in this building has windows!" Scott retorted, throwing his arms out to the sides.

"Or somewhere with less windows," Stiles conceded, pushing the flashlight into Scott's chest so he could have a free hand. Scott accepted it with shaking fingers, flipping it back and forth as he tried to think of a solution.

"Locker rooms," I supplied suddenly. Both boys looked at me with wide eyes, then glanced at each other.

"Yeah," Stiles agreed. "Come on." He nodded to Scott, who led the way to the left, holding the flashlight in front of him. Stiles squeezed my hand once more for comfort, and this time I gripped back, letting him know that I was okay. For now, at least.

* * *

**A/N: Whoo! Time for some werewolf action! I've been really excited to write this episode, so the fact that we're finally up to it makes me super happy. Yay for Protective!Stiles and conversations with Derek. I hope you guys enjoyed that talk as much as I liked writing it. PSA? Derek's my second favorite characters. I have a lot of Derek Hale feels. This will probably be reflected in my writing.**

**Thank you as usual to all the new favoriters, followers and reviewers. We brought 100 reviews! WHOO! So special thanks to all of you who reviewed last chapter: GetsueiNoYume, ScornedxRose, CypherToorima, randi101, Lojo2014o, xxxxninaxxxx, becca1130, LifeToDeath, LifeIsARayOfSunshine, Isaac fan ( :D ), TameTheGhosts, KageNoUta27, and Kuramalover2006. Thirteen reviews for last chapter was wonderful. Maybe we can push to 15 this chapter? Who knows. It is a mystery.**

**Thank you all again for reading and sticking with the story! **

**-Brittney**


	16. Chapter 16

Even though we were being herded around the school by a murderous werewolf who was out for revenge, I still felt a little weird about being in the boys locker room. Even when it was completely empty and dark in the dead of night, it seemed to hold the impression of the jock boys I was friends with. It was almost comforting, but I still felt awkward, as if I was intruding. But I was outnumbered two to one by males, so we'd entered the boys' locker room instead of the girls' one I was used to. I wrinkled my nose, willing myself to breath through my mouth for a few seconds, lest I suffocate in the stench of sweat and overwhelming body spray.

"Call your dad," Scott instructed as we reached the center of the room.

"And tell him what?" Stiles asked, glancing behind us, one of his hands still linked with mine.

"I don't know, anything! There's a gas leak, a fire, whatever," his friend pleaded. "If that thing sees the parking filled with cop cars, it'll take off."

"No," I said immediately, causing both boys to look at me.

"Yeah, what if it doesn't?" Stiles asked Scott, nodding to indicate he agreed with my short answer. "What if it goes completely Terminator and kills every cop in sight, including my dad?"

"They have guns!" Scott argued.

"It's not enough," I dismissed, shaking my head.

"Yeah and Derek had to be shot with a wolfsbane-laced bullet to even slow him down! You remember that?" Stiles countered, causing Scott to sigh.

"Then we… We have to…"

"No cops," I interrupted firmly. "We just run for it."

"There's nothing near the school for at least a mile," Stiles disputed. I paused, chewing on my bottom lip.

"What about Derek's car?" Scott offered, causing both Stiles and I to perk up.

"That could work," Stiles agreed. "We go outside, we get the keys of his body, ugh, and then we take his car!"

"And Derek," I demanded, still refusing to believe he was dead. Scott nodded while Stiles sent me an exasperated look.

"Fine," he conceded with a short nod. "Whatever." He turned our party around once more, leading us to the exit. He was just reaching for the handle when Scott's hand shot out, grabbing him by the wrist. I snapped my head to look at him. He was wearing the same sort of concentrated expression Derek had worn, right before the Alpha showed up. "What?" Stiles breathed.

"I think I heard something," Scott whispered nervously.

"Like what?!" Stiles hissed, but Scott hushed him.

"Sh! Quiet!" I felt Stiles's hand tighten around mine as we slowly edged away from the door. Scott turned the flashlight off, staring steadily at the exit. "Hide." Stiles spun on the spot frantically before leaping for a row of lockers next to us. He wrenched one open and tried to push me inside.

"Hey!" I protested, wrenching my hand away from him.

"Go!" he ordered. "I'll be right next to you!" He promptly stuffed himself inside the next locker while I gave the inside of mine a withering look.

"Gross," I moaned, before grudgingly stepping inside. If I thought the smell in the open locker room was bad, the stench inside the single locker I was occupying was like death. I shifted around uncomfortably, trying to stay away from the door and keep myself from touching the walls at the same time. I suddenly prayed that I hadn't been stuffed inside the locker of someone I knew. The smirking face of Dylan Peters flashed in my mind and I gagged.

The sound of the door opening broke me out of my thoughts. My eyes snapped wide, and my hand flew over my mouth. I braced myself, forcing my breath in and out of my nose so I made less noise, despite the smell. I heard footsteps walk past us, and almost relaxed until I remembered that werewolves could hear heartbeats. Then, I heard a scream. My stomach lurched for a moment until it registered that it voice didn't belong to Scott or Stiles, and it certainly didn't sound like a werewolf. I heard the locker open next to me, and fumbled to get out myself. When I finally escaped, I found Scott and Stiles trying to quiet the janitor, who looked about to have a heart attack.

"Quiet my ass!" he yelled, one hand clutching his chest. "What the hell are you trying to do, kill me?!" He looked between the three of us, looking slightly taken aback at my sudden appearance. "Okay, all of you, get out."

"Just—Just listen for half a second, okay?" Stiles pleaded with annoyance, but the janitor was not ready to listen.

"Not okay!" he snapped. "Look, just take your girlfriend and get the hell out of here right now!" Stiles looked over at me with wide eyes, which gave the janitor his opportunity to shove us towards the door. We spilled into the hallway, tripping over ourselves.

"Please just give us one second to explain!" Scott begged, Stiles still gaping from the janitor's previous comment.

"Just shut up and go," the janitor demanded, brandishing a finger down the hall. Then suddenly, he wasn't there any more.

I shrieked as the janitor's body was ripped back with a roar, the door to the locker room slamming shut. A second later his screams began to echo through the hall, and his body smashed into the closed door, his silhouette and blood visible through the window. I jumped back, bumping into Stiles chest. He instantly wrapped his arms around me, staring at the door in shock as Scott edged back towards us too. The janitor's body disappeared for a fraction of a second before he was rammed back into the glass. Scott leapt forward, rattling the handle of the door in an attempt to save the man. But given the amount of blood coating the glass panel, he was already as good as dead.

"Scott!" I yelled, grabbing his wrist tightly. Stiles snatched my left hand and began to pull us down the hall. After a second or two I managed to pry Scott off the door and we sprinted away. There was a terrifying crash behind us, but none of us paused to look back, literally running for our lives. We sped like a train, each of my hands holding on to one of the boys, until we finally reached the nearest exit. We slammed into the doors, but unfortunately they didn't budge. I grasped my shoulder in pain, thankful at least that I'd used my good one. Stiles and Scott were still pushing.

"What the hell?!" Scott gasped as he rattled at the door. When I'd recovered, I joined them once more, trying my best to kick the door out. Stiles yelped when my foot slammed into the metal an inch from his hand, jumping back. The door barely rocked out, and I grunted in frustration. Scott managed to swing the door open a few inches, enough to stick his face out and investigate the problem. "It's a dumpster."

"A dumpster?!" I demanded staggering back a few steps. Stiles glanced back at me with a look of plain panic and comprehension.

"He pushed it in front of the door," he realized, "to block us in…" Stiles slammed his body into the metal, repeatedly banging into it in desperations. "Come on, help me!" he pleaded, slamming his side into the door. I cringed at the loud noise, grabbing his shoulders and tugging him away.

"Stiles! Stiles, stop! We've got to find another door." Stiles was breathing heavily, clearly freaking out now that another one of our plans had been foiled. This time it was me who grabbed his hand, pulling him away from the door as he panted.

"Come on," Scott instructed, leading us back down the hallways and closer to the main office.

"I'm not dying here," Stiles chanted, his voice breaking slightly. "I'm not dying at school!"

"We're not going to die!" Scott argued, trying to keep a slightly more positive attitude.

"What is it doing?" I groaned, looking up and down the hallway warily. "It could have killed us plenty of times, so what does it want?"

"Me!" Scott yelled, glancing back at us. "Derek says it's stronger with a pack."

"Oh, great," Stiles considered sarcastically. "A psychotic werewolf who's into teamwork. That's—That's beautiful." My lips twitched into a slight smile, glad to know he was in a good enough place to joke, at the very least. But then Scott's arm flew out across my chest once again.

"What? What is it?" I asked quickly. I followed his eyes out the window, spotting the dark shape on the roof of the hallway opposite us. "Oh you've gotta be kidding," I muttered as the luminous red eyes washed over us. "Okay, go. Go!" I pushed both boys back down the hallway the way we'd come, ushering them away from the window and then outstripping both of them. I heard the window smash behind us, heard the deep growl and the snapping jaws, but I just kept running. The pounding feet behind me encouraged me to keep moving, assuring me that Scott and Stiles were still on my tail. Making a snap decision, I burst through a door on my right, speeding down the stairs and jumping down the second half of the last flight completely. I held the door at the bottom of the stairwell open, letting Stiles and Scott fly past me before I ran through myself. We were now in the lowest level of the school, a place I had never seen before. I glanced back and forth in the darkness, letting Stiles take the lead.

"Come on," he whispered quickly, sprinting to the left. Scott and I tore after him, following him into a dark, dirty storage room, filled with rows of rusting lockers. I sighed internally. As if the night needed to be creepier.

Stiles ran to the right, disappearing behind the last row of lockers, followed by Scott. He grabbed me when I made it to the end, snatching me to the side and passing me to Stiles, who pushed me into the lockers on his left. I tried to regain my breath, concentrating on breathing in my nose and out my mouth as the three of us stood completely still. Scott peered around the edge of the lockers and then jerked his head back. He and Stiles mouthed wordlessly to each other for a few seconds, before Stiles pushed me to the side, ushering me ahead of him. We ran to the closest door, but a growl nearby made us double back. I spun on the spot, one hand on my head as I searched desperately for some form of escape.

"Alright, we have to do something," Stiles gasped, eyeing the closest door in fear.

"Like what?" Scott hissed. I followed them backwards, edging away from the approaching noises as Stiles went on.

"I don't know. Kill it, hurt it, inflict mental anguish on it, something!" A crash ahead of us made me take a hurried step back, and I knocked into an open door. I glanced hopefully to the side, only to find a very small, dark courtyard. Well, that wouldn't be helpful. Suddenly, I stared back into the tiny space, glancing momentarily at the rest of the room as a risky plan formed in my mind.

"Okay," I breathed, more to myself than anyone else. As the sounds grew closer, I pushed the boys back, forcing them into the small, dead end hallway on the other side of the door. I held a finger up over my lips, giving the boys a pointed look. I glanced back into the room and took a deep breath. I turned to Stiles, raising a hand to cover his mouth as I backed him into the closest wall. I tried to ignore the way he raised his eyebrows as his back hit the concrete and I stepped closer, or the way his eyes bugged out and he tried to gasp beneath my palm as I slipped my hand into his right pants pocket. Ever so carefully, both to avoid making noise and making the situation any more awkward than it needed to be, I pulled the Jeep keys from his pocket. Stiles was still stuck speechless in front of me, not only because my right hand was still glued over his mouth. The keys jangled slightly as I moved to the edge of the door, forcing me to freeze and wince. I ignored Scott who was pleading and calling me back under his breath somewhere to my right. With one more deep breath, I chucked the keys into the enclosed space.

The effect was immediate. A fraction of a second after I'd ducked behind the door again, a roar shook the entire bottom floor. I heard the Alpha's paws and claws pounding on the ground, pouncing into the room where he thought we were hiding. As soon as I was sure he was inside, I slammed my shoulder against the door, slamming it shut with the beast still inside.

"Move the desk!" I ordered, pressing my back into the door. "Move the desk!" Scott sprung into action, shoving the spare desk that was sitting in the corner towards me. In a manner of seconds, we rotated it longwise, slamming one end into the door and praying that would be enough. A moment later, the creature howled from inside, pounding on the door. I jumped back, watching in terror as the desk jolted back, ramming into a set of lockers pressed on the opposite wall, but otherwise keeping the door shut. I panted, looking over at Scott with a shaking but victorious grin.

"He can't…" Scott muttered, staring at the door that was holding the Alpha back and then looking over at me with a growing smile. "You…You did it!"

"Yeah," I breathed, looking back at the door. I was trembling, but for now, the door seemed to be staying shut, though it sounded like the creature was pacing inside.

"Hey, Stiles," Scott panted, looking at his best friend. Stiles was still pressed against the wall where I left him, blinking furiously with his mouth slightly agape.

"Gah?" he asked, snapping out of his trance. Scott grinned.

"Thanks for telling Sadie about werewolves."

"Wh-? Sadie?" Stiles looked around, spotting me on the other side of the desk, then looking down and up to the door that was just slightly rattling, bloodthirsty werewolf behind it. "Yes... Werewolves… Sadie… You're welcome…" I let out a breathy chuckle, shooting the door another glance.

"Okay, that's not gonna keep it in forever," I reminded them. "We gotta get out of here. Climb across."

"What?!" Scott asked in a panic. I waved him over frantically. He shot the door a nervous glance before handing the flashlight back to Stiles. Taking a deep breath, he launched himself over the desk. I steadied him with a hand on his shoulder when he tripped on my side, then glanced back at Stiles.

"Come on, Stiles, we gotta go." But Stiles wasn't in as much of a hurry to leave as Scott and I. He eyed the door with curiosity, climbing up onto the desk and perching himself there, still staring at the small window in the door. "Stiles!"

"What are you doing?!" Scott whispered harshly.

"I just wanna get a look at it!" Stiles defended softly, holding up his hands.

"Are you crazy?!" I hissed.

"Look, it's trapped, okay?" he reasoned, inching closer to the door on his hands and knees. "It's not gonna get out."

"Stiles, get your ass over here!" I demanded through gritted teeth, but the boy simply ignored me. He directed the beam of the flashlight through the grate, carefully peering inside. As if that wasn't bad enough, then he had to go and open his damn mouth.

"Yeah, that's right," he taunted quietly. "We got you…"

"Will you shut up?!" Scott begged next to me, staring at Stiles incredulously.

"I'm not scared of this thing!" he snapped. At that moment, the Alpha slammed into the door, shaking the table violently and sending Stiles tumbling to the floor, thankfully on our side of the desk. He scrambled to his feet, glancing over at me for a moment before turning back to the door. "I'm not scared of you!" he called, and I shuddered as the werewolf dragged its claw across the tiny window. "Right, cause you're in there and we're out here. You're not going any…" He trailed off as we heard a loud crash from the inside of the tiny room. I closed my eyes, taking a shaky breath before I looked up at the ceiling. A creaking noise echoed through the room as the surface above us began to buckle, ceiling tiles popping out here and there.

"Oh I fucking hate you," I growled at Stiles, before we all turned on our heels and sprinted out the way we'd come. I repeated he phrase like a mantra as the boys led the way around the bottom floor, around dark corners and down dark hallways. I was still grumbling a couple minutes later when Scott pulled me to a stop.

"Sh, stop, stop," he hushed, looking up at the ceiling. "You guys hear that?"

"Hear what?" Stiles asked nervously.

"It sounds like a phone ringing," Scott supplied.

"What?" I demanded in confusion. Scott's head was whipping back and forth, his werewolf hearing obviously picking up on something Stiles and I couldn't hear.

"I know that ring!" he gasped suddenly. "That's Allison's phone!"

"Allison?" I repeated raising my eyebrows. "Why would Allison be here? Why should _anyone_ be here?!"

"Scott, calm down," Stiles ordered, resting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "It's not like she's the only person in the world who has that ringtone."

"Gimme your phone," Scott insisted frantically.

"What? Why?"

"Gimme it!"

"Scott," I said soothingly. "I'm sure she's fine."

"I have to make sure," he begged desperately. Stiles rolled his eyes, quickly fishing his phone out of his pocket and handing it to Scott, who snatched it up immediately. He dialed her number from memory, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waited for an answer. His face lit up when she finally picked up. "No, it's me," he said, and I momentarily flashed back to Scott calling me on Stiles's phone to let me know they were going to the school. Had that really been today? "Where are you?" Scott demanded nervously. "Where are you right now? … Where?! Where are you exactly?!" He exchanged a nervous look with Stiles and I, nodding slightly to let us know that Allison was in fact in the school. I sighed, looking around in exasperation. Because we didn't have enough people's lives to worry about. "Go to the lobby," Scott directed. "Go now!" He held his breath for a moment before he hung up, passing the phone back to its owner. "She's in the swimming pool," he informed us nervously. Stiles pursed his lips, nodding once.

"Okay. Come on, this way." He pressed on ahead, leading the way to the closest set of stairs to the first floor. As soon as we reached the level, Scott sped ahead, desperate to get to the lobby and Allison, and leaving Stiles and I to sprint after him. We burst through the doors a second after Scott.

"Why did you come?" he asked, as Allison jogged to meet us in the middle of the room. "Why—What are you doing here?"

"Because you asked me to," she responded, barely sparing Stiles and me and glance.

"I asked you to?" Scott repeated, utterly confused. Allison pulled out her phone, holding it up so that Scott could read whatever was on the screen. I shared a nervous look with Stiles as Scott went stock-still.

"Why do I get the feeling you didn't send this message?" Allison asked, her voice shaking slightly.

"Because I didn't," Scott replied quickly, glancing back at Stiles and I. I quickly stormed to Scott's side, snatching the phone from Allison's hand. She'd pulled a text message up on her phone, one she'd received only slightly earlier in the night. There was no number displayed, only the message.

_"Meet me at the school. URGENT. –Scott"_

I glared down at the phone in my hands, completely at a loss for who could have sent it.

"Alright, did you drive here?" Stiles interrupted, also stepping up to my side.

"Jackson did," Allison replied in a high voice, causing me to groan.

"Jackson's here too?!" Scott demanded.

"And Lydia!" she added, causing my eyes to go wide. I shared another look with Stiles, who seemed just as concerned as I was, his face composed in a similar wide-eyed, open-mouthed expression. "What's going on? Who sent this message?!" Allison demanded as her phone started to go off in my hand. She reached for it, but the moment I saw the caller ID I picked it up myself.

"Lydia, where are you?" I demanded.

_"Sadie?"_ Lydia's shrill voice asked, perplexed.

A moment later, the doors on the other side of the lobby flew open, revealing a very irate Lydia and Jackson.

"Sadie, what are you doing here?" she pressed hanging up her phone and shoving it back in her purse.

"I, uh…" I stammered, looking back and forth between Scott and Stiles. The strawberry blonde threw up her hands, glaring.

"You know what? It can wait. Can we go now?"

"Yes," I said immediately. "Let's do that. Let's go now." Allison nodded, but before any of us could take a single step, a familiar creaking noise met my ears. I winced staring up at the ceiling as the creaks turned to muffled bangs and snaps.

"Run!" Scott ordered after a second, pulling Allison along as we darted for the stairs. The Alpha crashed to the floor behind us, growling lowly as plaster and metal scattered on the floor. We scrambled down the hallway, feet pounding and hearts racing as the beast chased after us. I nearly tripped when I glanced behind me, trying to make sure that Lydia and Jackson were still with us. Stiles seized my hand, tugging me ahead and keeping me anchored to his side as we rocketed down the hall. A few panicked seconds later, Stiles and I had pulled ahead of the rest of the group, and we burst through the double doors of the cafeteria. Our momentum carried us almost all the way to the opposite wall as everyone else scurried in behind us. The door slammed shut, and I could just hear Scott fiddling with the locks as I tried to catch my breath. I wheeled around, trying to do a head count to make sure we hadn't lost anyone. Allison and Lydia were both hyperventilating next to the snack machines in the corner, while Scott was skidding across the room and Jackson stood frozen by the door. Stiles was standing next to me, hand still wrapped around mine, and as far as I could tell, I was alive too. I heaved a great sigh of relief.

"Help me get this in front of the door!" Scott instructed, sprinting over to one of the refrigeration containers.

"Scott, wait, not here!" Stiles called next to me, but no one paid his protest any attention.

"What was that?" Allison asked frantically, her hands shaking in front of her. "Scott, what was that?!"

"What came through the ceiling?!" Lydia cried, her voice wavering dangerously. I pulled away from Stiles, running to my best friend and pulling her to my chest. She gripped my arm tightly, just as she had when she'd woken up from her nightmare a few nights ago. I took a shaky breath, praying that she wouldn't relapse into a breakdown from facing the Alpha again, that she hadn't caught a glimpse of the red eyes or black fur I knew she subconsciously feared.

"Will you just help me?!" Scott yelled as he and Jackson wheeled the milk cart in front of the door. "Chairs! Stack the chairs!" Allison nodded reluctantly, and I pulled Lydia over the closest pile, helping her collect as much furniture as possible for the barricade until Stiles caught my attention once more.

"Guys? Can we just wait a second? You guys, listen to me! Wait!" I glanced back at Stiles, who was standing unmoving by the windows. I passed another chair to Lydia before jogging over to him.

"Stiles, come on," I coaxed, but he shook his head.

"No! Sadie! Windows!" He gestured wildly behind him, and I was about to ask "what about them" when the point finally hit me. We were barricading ourselves in a room with one exit and a wall full of windows that we couldn't open. So while the Alpha could smash its way in, we'd never be able to make our way out.

"Damnit," I groaned, resting a hand on my head.

"Yeah, exactly," Stiles snapped, turning back to the rest of the group, who were working hard on the blockade. "Can we wait a second? Guys? Stiles talking? Can we hang on one second, please?" Finally, I snapped.

_"Stop!"_ I screeched, causing everyone to freeze and wheel around. I was met with four pairs of wide eyes. I glared, brandishing a hand at the boy standing next to me, who was also staring at me in surprise. When he realized he finally had the floor, Stiles cleared his throat.

"Okay, nice work," he congratulated the group sarcastically. Scott was gripping Allison's hand nervously, while Lydia seemed to have latched permanently onto Jackson's arm. "Really beautiful job, everyone. Now! What should we do about the twenty foot wall of windows?!" He spun around, gesturing grandiosely to the glass wall behind us. One by one, I saw each face fall as they realized the situation.

"Can somebody please explain to me what's going on, because I am freaking out here," Allison begged in a high voice, turning desperately to Scott. Lydia and Jackson glanced over at Stiles and I before following her lead and looking to Scott. "And I would like to know why… Scott?" The poor boys stared at Allison for a few seconds, completely at a loss for what to say. He screwed up his face, trying to think of an excuse, but ended up replying with nothing but a huff as he paced over to one of the cafeteria tables, head in his hands. But with Scott down, the three confused people across from us turned to the person they knew best—me.

"Sadie, what the hell's going on?" Jackson asked, his eyes wide as he threw his arms out to the side. I bit my lip as I looked between their frantic faces. Allison kept shooting Scott confused, hurt glances, and Lydia was half-cowering behind her boyfriend, whimpering quietly. I shook my head, mouth open without a real response as I subconsciously edged closer to Stiles. He glanced down at me as our arms brushed, then sighed and turned to the group himself.

"Somebody killed the janitor," Stiles informed them, resting a hand on my shoulder as he walked us towards the group.

"What?" Lydia asked in a high voice, staring at my anxiously. I nodded.

"Yeah," I agreed, nodding timidly and my voice hoarse. "The janitor's dead."

"What are you talking about?" Allison laughed in desperation. "Is this a joke?!"

"Allison, why would I be joking about this?" I spat, throwing a hand up to accentuate the point. Jackson waved a hand to keep me back.

"W-Who killed him?" he asked me. I opened and closed my mouth for a few seconds shaking my head.

"I-I…I don't know," I replied. "We don't know who it was." That was actually true, I realized as I continued to shake my head back and forth. We knew _what _was trying to kill us, but we still didn't know _who_ the Alpha was. So we weren't lying.

"No, no, no, no, no," Lydia muttered under her breath, wide eyes staring around the room as she silently begged for answers. "This—This was supposed to be over! The mountain lion killed-!"

"No, don't you get it?!" Jackson snapped at her, before slowly looking back at me. I thought back to our conversation a few days prior about his suspicions it had never been a mountain lion in the first place. Jackson seemed to be thinking the same as he nodded slightly and continued, "There wasn't a mountain lion."

"Who was it?! What does he want?!" Allison begged desperately. "What is happening…?" Allison ran a worried hand through her hair, glancing over at Scott again, who was trembling and leaning on one of the cafeteria tables. "Scott!"

"I-I-I don't know!" he stammered, sitting up and glancing at us over his shoulder. "I-I, I just… If we go out there, he's gonna kill us."

"Us?" Lydia squeaked, one hand gripping onto Jackson's arm while the other squeezed mine like a lifeline. "He's gonna kill us?!"

"Who?" Allison demanded again, looking from Scott to Stiles to me again. "Who is it?! Sadie?"

"Allison, I told you," I snapped. "I don't know who it is! None of us do!"

"It's Derek," Scott said suddenly, standing up to his full height. "It's Derek Hale."

_"What?!"_ I shrieked, whirling around and completely ready to go off on him.

"Sadie," Stiles whispered in a warning tone, grabbing my hand and putting the other one on my shoulder in an effort to hold me back. Thankfully, everyone else seemed to take my outburst as one of surprise.

"Derek killed the janitor?" Jackson asked, furrowing his brow as he looked from the nervous Scott to my surprised, and frankly outraged, face.

"A-Are you sure?" Allison asked weakly shaking her head back and forth.

"I saw him," Scott replied adamantly.

"The mountain lion…" Lydia protested weakly, but Scott cut her off.

"No! Derek killed them!"

"All of them?" Allison pressed.

"Yeah, starting with his own sister."

"And the bus driver…?"

"A-And the guy in the video store!" Scott yelled. "It's been Derek the whole time! He's in here with us! And if we don't get out now…he's going to kill us too." Lydia started to whimper once more. Jackson and I both simultaneously looked down in concern, before staring at each other. It was like I could feel the doubt rolling off of him in waves. Sure, he knew that we'd never been attacked by a mountain lion, but he wasn't stupid enough to think it'd just been a human. He'd felt the claws on the back of his neck, and as much as he denied it, I knew he'd also seen the glowing red eyes. Jackson wasn't buying the story. I could think of a thousand different excuses to back Scott up, even a just a little, but my mouth never moved. It stayed still lips pressed together as I turned to stare at Scott in disdain. I refused to help him blame Derek Hale.

"Call the cops," Jackson ordered looking around the room.

"No," Stiles and I answered in unison, causing Jackson to stare at us.

"W-What do you mean 'no'?!"

"I mean no," Stiles replied firmly turning to face Jackson head on. "You wanna hear it in Spanish? _¡No!_" Jackson rolled his eyes and I glowered at him. "Look, Derek killed three people, okay?" Stiles started, glancing at Scott as he jumped onto the bandwagon. "We don't know what he's armed with."

"Your dad is armed with an entire sheriff's department!" Jackson argued angrily, and Allison and Lydia turned to look at Stiles as well. "Call him!"

"I'm calling!" Lydia announced, fishing her phone out of her purse and walking away.

"Lydia, no. Stop!" I argued, making a move to grab the phone. Jackson threw out an arm to hold me back, and I shoved against him, forcing him to roughly grab my arm. "Jackson! Get off!"

"Hey!" Stiles barked, stepping toward him and ripping me out of his grasp. Scott rushed over to help avoid a conflict, and the three boys glared at each other. Until Lydia's voice rang through the empty cafeteria.

"Yes, we're at Beacon Hills High School," Lydia informed the police over the phone. "We're trapped and we need you to…" She trailed off suddenly, her body going rigid. "But…" She pulled the phone away from her ear, staring down at it in confusion before turning back to us in horror. "She hung up on me?"

"The police hung up on you?" Allison asked darkly, and Lydia nodded.

"She said they got a tip warning them that there are gonna be prank calls about a break in at the high school. She said if I called again that they're gonna trace it and have me arrested."

"Lydia, you're not getting arrested," I informed her, shaking my head at the policewoman's response.

"Okay, then call again!" Allison ordered, completely ignoring me.

"No, they won't trace a cell," Stiles explained, glancing from me to Lydia and shaking his head as well. "Then they'll send a car to your house before they send anyone here."

"What the…What…What is this?" Allison stammered, raising her hands to her hairline again. "Why does Derek want to kill us?! Why is he killing anyone?!" She turned desperately to Scott once more, causing the rest of us to do the same. Scott looked frantically back and forth between all of our faces.

"Why's everyone looking at me?" I narrowed my eyes, trying to control my voice.

"Maybe because you're the one who told us it was Derek." I felt Stiles's hand on my arm again, but I ignored it, glaring at Scott.

"Is he the one that sent her the text?" Lydia asked him.

"No!" Scott replied in frustration. "I-I mean, I don't know!"

"Is he the one that called the police?" Allison pushed.

"I don't know!" Scott yelled, and Allison sent him a dirty look.

"Alright, why don't we just back off the throttle here, yeah?" Stiles eased, pushing Scott away from the group. I moved to follow, but he pushed me back towards Jackson.

"Stiles," I protested, but his hand didn't give.

"No, Sadie," Stiles whispered, standing close. "You have to stay over here, okay? I don't need you killed Scott because of Derek, and the less it looks like you know, the better." Without another word, he backed away, hurrying over to Scott who was panting a couple yards away. I stomped my foot in frustration hands flying up to my head as I spun around to face my three friends.

"What the hell was that?" Jackson demanded, pointing a hand at Stiles to indicate the small exchange.

"Nothing," I spat angrily. "They won't tell me anything." I moved over to Lydia, hugging her tightly out of frustration and worry. She squeezed back, burying her face in my shoulder. I could feel her small body trembling as she tried to take calming breaths, and did the best I could to sooth her by stroking her hair, just like I'd done the last time she had a breakdown. Allison looked over, every inch of her face laced with concern. Even though I was slightly upset with her for all the questions, I knew she couldn't be blamed. Scott, Stiles and I had been here first, and it was natural for her to assume we knew what was going on. I offered my right hand to her, which she took graciously, coming over to stand with Lydia and I. Jackson watched on for a minute or two, placing a hand on my shoulder. Suddenly, he spun back around practically pouncing on Stiles and Scott.

"O-Okay, assheads!" he yelled. "New plan. Stiles calls his useless dad and tells him to send someone with a gun and decent aim. Are we good with that?"

"No!" I protested. I tore myself away from Lydia, who whimpered slightly until I pushed her into Allison. I marched over to the lacrosse captain, rage seeping out of every pore. "Jackson, I swear to God, you use the word useless to describe the cops one more time, I'm gonna _make_ you useless, okay? We are not calling the police!" Jackson growled, throwing his arms up, but backing up slightly at my stubbornness. As usual, Scott threw a wrench in my plan.

"He's right," he agreed, causing Stiles and I to look at him with wide eyes. "Tell him the truth if you have to, just—just call him!"

"No!" I repeated, storming over to the pair, just in time to hear Stiles's response.

"I'm not watching my dad get eaten alive," he muttered to Scott, before glancing around at the crowd. I nodded firmly when he began to walk away.

"Alright, gimme the phone!" Jackson commanded pushing past me to grab Stiles shoulder.

"Jackson!" I yelled, but before I could do anything about it, he'd already reached him. Stiles whirled around, fist flying squarely into Jackson's jaw. His hands flew to his mouth and he staggered away falling to the fall by the windows. I ran over to Stiles, placing my hand flat against his chest and trying to keep him calm enough to not go after Jackson again.

"Jackson! Are you okay?!" Allison asked frantically, running over to him. She stared at Stiles and I with an expression akin to disgust, but I tried not to let it bother me. She had no idea what was really going on.

"Stiles," I whispered, turning back to him, my other hand gripping his jacket sleeve. "Please don't do it… Don't…" Stiles stared down at me for a moment, his light brown eyes shadowed in the dark cafeteria but his eyelashes still distractingly long. He glanced over at Lydia, who was now standing alone behind me. His eyes stayed glued to her as he reluctantly pulled out his phone. "No. No, Stiles, please don't." But he shrugged me off, forcing me to take a few steps back as he held the phone up to his ear. I stared at him in despair.

"Dad, hey, it's me," he said into the phone a few seconds later, and my heart dropped. "And it's your voicemail. Look, I need to call me back now. Like, right now." Stiles's message was interrupted by a slamming on the cafeteria doors. Lydia jumped about a foot in the air, scrambling away from the doors as they banged repeatedly into our makeshift barricade. Allison helped Jackson to his feet, and Lydia was by his side in an instant. I stood frozen a few feet away from Stiles. "We're at the school. Dad? We're at the school." The banging sped up and I watched as the doors rattled on their hinges, the screws slowly but surely coming loose. But that didn't make any sense. I'd seen the size of this thing, seen its mass, its power. There was no way the barricade and a pair of locks were enough to keep it out. It easily could have torn the whole door down. So why wasn't it?

"Oh, God," I heard Lydia whimper behind me. "Oh my God!" A hand grabbed my by the hood of my jacket, and Stiles pulled me back closer to the group.

"The kitchen," he instructed, keeping his eyes on the door. "The door out of the kitchen leads to the stairwell."

"Which only goes up!" Scott replied frantically, Allison tucked into his side.

"Up is better than here," he reminded us, waving his arm and ushering everyone back as the door began to come loose. Then we were running once more, Stiles gripping my arm tightly as we dashed through the kitchen and the door slammed down behind us. It worked well, I mused internally as we sprinted up the stairwell, for the most part. Stiles would take the lead and pull me along when I didn't know where to go, and I would peel ahead and tug him with me when all we needed was speed.

In less than a minute, the six of us we running frantically down a corridor on the second floor, trying every door in sight. But the janitor had done his final job, and all of the classrooms we tried were locked. Finally, Lydia was able to open the door to one of the upper chemistry classrooms, and the rest of us poured in after her. We pressed ourselves to the walls on either side of the door and Scott jammed a stool under the handle as a makeshift lock. Then we all froze, forcing quick, shallow breaths as we tried to keep quiet. I listened intently, staring warily at the door as I tried to decide, not whether or not it would be able to find us, but just how long it would take. A low growl rumbled in the hallway, and I grabbed Stiles's sleeve as he grabbed Scott. Lydia clapped a hand over her mouth. We stared at the door in terror as a shadow momentarily slid over the small glass panel. In a moment, it disappeared.

"Jackson, how many people can fit in your car?" Scott hissed when he'd decided the coast was clear.

"S-Six if someone squeezes in someone's lap."

"Six?" Allison spat. "I barely fit in the back!"

"Fine!" I snapped. "Then everyone sits in someone else's lap and we shove someone in the trunk. We have to get out!"

"It doesn't matter," Stiles dismissed from beside me. "There's no getting out without drawing attention." Scott turned to look at him, but instead his eyes slid past us to the far wall.

"What about this?" he breathed, scurrying to a door by the windows. Stiles and I rushed after him, my hand still clasped tight around the fabric of Stiles's jacket. "This leads to the roof," Scott explained, pointing to the sign on the door. "We can go down the fire escape to the parking lot in like seconds!"

"That's a deadbolt," Stiles pointed out, causing the plan to crash around our ears as we realized we wouldn't be able to pick it open. Scott sighed until his head snapped up once more.

"The janitor has a key."

"The janitor's body has a key, Scott," I hissed, leaning forward and crossing my arms over my chest. But Scott wasn't deterred.

"I can get it," he said confidently. "I can find him by scent, by blood."

"Well, gee, that sounds like an incredibly terrible idea," Stiles replied testily. "What else you got?"

"Scott," I pleaded, shaking my head. "You know this could be exactly what he wants, right? He walked right by us. It's not like he doesn't know we're here. He's probably counting on the fact that you're gonna go out on your own. You could be playing right into his hands!"

"Right into his claws!" Stiles added, but Scott shook his head, raising his voice.

"I'm getting the key." He pushed between Stiles and I, storming past us and trying to get to the door before anyone could stop him. But Allison stepped up.

"Are you serious?" she whispered, arms wrapped around her torso.

"Well, it's the best plan," he pleaded as Stiles and I ambled up behind him. "Someone has to get the key if we wanna get out of here."

"You can't go out there unarmed!" she protested. Scott looked back and forth for a moment before snatching up the teacher's flimsy pointer, complete with a plastic hand on the end.

"Well it's better than nothing!" he defended when we all stared at him unimpressed. I snatched the plastic from him, swatting him with it briefly.

"Don't be a dumbass!" I growled, bending the plastic uneasily in my hands.

"There's gotta be something else," Stiles groaned.

"There is," Lydia piped up. We all turned to look at her as she raised her eyebrows and jerked her head towards the chemical closet. I beamed.

"Lydia, you're a genius," I complimented, causing a brief smile to grace her lips. Stiles stared incredulously between the pair of us.

"What are we gonna do, throw acid on him?!"

"No, like a fire bomb," Lydia explained, eying the closet carefully. "In there is everything you need to make a self-igniting Molotov cocktail."

"Self-igniting…" Stiles repeated, sounding a little frightened of Lydia himself.

"Molotov cocktail," she finished darkly. I smirked as everyone in the room stared at her in complete and utter surprise. "What?" she asked. "I read it somewhere!"

"We don't have a key for that either," Stiles sighed, causing me to roll my eyes.

"Oh my God," I groaned, laying a hand out towards the closet. "Jackson, please." Jackson pursed his lips for a moment before ramming his leather-clad elbow into the glass, which shattered on impact.

"Oh, wow, okay!" Stiles exclaimed, and Allison jumped back. Lydia pushed her way past Jackson, reaching into the cabinet to begin pulling out all of the components she needed.

"Sadie, a little help?" she asked, and I moved Scott and Allison out of the way of the desk. I quickly pushed all of the papers to the side, clearing a space for Lydia to work and then helping her carry all of the jars and bottles to the desk. "Okay, I need an Erlenmeyer flask. A big one."

"Got it," I responded running around to the nearest lab station and ripping the closet door open. I pushed through the glassware, moving test tubes and beakers aside so I could pull out the 1000 mL flask standing unused in the back of the cabinet. I turned on the sink, rinsing it as thoroughly as I could before carrying it back over to Lydia. "Uh, dry that," I ordered, pushing it into Jackson's hands and dashing back through the first lab station. I wrenched the drawers open, sifting through the assorted stirrers, tongs and crucibles until I found what I was looking for. "And one plastic funnel," I added, slamming it on the desk as Lydia walked around, pulling her hair over her shoulder before she started to work.

"Great, uh, see if you can find a cork to top it."

"Is that really necessary?!" Scott asked frantically, glancing at the clock on the wall. Lydia and I both glared at him in unison.

"We need to keep the fumes from evaporating and dispersing," Lydia snapped.

"And if we're putting our lives in your hands, Scott, I'd prefer they weren't suffering from chemical burns," I added, resting a hand on Lydia's shoulder. "I'll look for a cork."

Because of the dangerous situation, it felt like checking all the lab stations for large corks took hours, when in reality it only took a few minutes. But with every passing second, and every test-tube-cork I found, I grew more and more frustrated. Lydia was nearly done by the time I'd found one big enough in the very back corner of the bottom closet of the teacher's desk. Stiles helped me stand back up, and I rushed back to Lydia's side, popping the cork on top of the flask filled with acidic green liquid. Lydia tapped it firmly into place before handing it to Scott, who accepted it with both hands from his spot on the other side of the desk.

"No," Allison broke from her place pacing in front of the door. "No, this is insane. You can't do this. You cannot go out there!"

"We can't just sit here waiting for Stiles's dad to check his messages," he reasoned.

"You could die! Don't you get that?!" Allison whispered harshly. "He's killed three people!"

"And we're next!" Scott reminded her, which did nothing to calm her nerves. "Somebody has to do something."

"Scott, just stop!" she begged, blocking him as he moved for the door. "Do you…Do you remember when you told me you knew whether or not I was lying? That I had a tell?" I bit my lip, wrapping my arms around my torso as I watched Scott nod. "So do you… You're a horrible liar, and you've been lying all night." Allison's voice broke as she started to cry, and I turned my head away, staring down at the scuffed black surface of the teacher's desk. "Just…just please, please don't go. Please don't leave us. Please." There was silence for a moment before Scott replied.

"Lock it behind me," he instructed, but his next attempt to leave was thwarted as Allison pulled him into a kiss. I looked away again, one hand reaching up to rub the back of my neck. I felt absolutely awful. I knew Scott going out there was dangerous, but it was a lot less dangerous for him to go out than the rest of us. Allison didn't know that. Allison didn't know that the Alpha wanted him, or that he could heal himself from most injuries, or that he had senses better than any of us could imagine. She thought that he was just a stupid teenage boy, making a rash decision that could easily get him killed and leaving her no way to help. My eyes strayed to Stiles, who was watching his best friend sadly. I thought back to the way my stomach had lurched when I realized Stiles was planning on risking his life to keep the doors closed. I could only imagine how Allison felt.

Unfortunately, her kiss hadn't been enough to stop him. After a few seconds, he pulled away, and with an anguished look he pushed his way out of the door. Allison stood frozen for a moment, wiping her tears from her face. I walked over to her, and slowly pulled her into a hug. I could feel her chest jolting as she tried to quiet her sobs, but she ended up wrapping her arms around my shoulders and burying her head into my sweatshirt. I rubbed her back soothingly, glancing from Stiles, who was watching in concern, to the door. He nodded, moving to the exit and propping the stool underneath the hand again as a makeshift lock.

Now there was nothing to do but sit quietly, and wait for Scott to come back.

* * *

**A/N: Wow, guys. Thank you so much for the overwhelming response. 17 AWESOME reviews. I can't tell if you guys were listening, if you all just really like "Night School," or if you're gonna react this well every time Stiles and Sadie touch each other. A lot of you were freaking out about the holding hands bit, which was so amazing and it made me smile. I hope you enjoyed Sadie slipping her hand into Stiles's pants! ;D**

**Thank you and welcome to all of the new favoriters and followers, and as I mentioned, the heartwarming and giggle-inducing reviewers! CypherToorima, LifeToDeath, ScornedxRose, GetsueiNoYume, wordsh4ker, vanillaclouds101, TameTheGhosts, Lojo2014o, Kelly1432, RealHuntress18, LifeIsARayOfSunshine, Isaac fan, becca1130, realityalways-getsintheway, xxxxninaxxxx, and Tired and Inspired. Guys, all of your reviews were so kick ass, thank you so much for the feedback. I just sat there grinning as I read and reread them all. Thank you so much!**

**Thanks again for reading and let me know what you liked or thought of the chapter!**

**-Brittney**


	17. Chapter 17

It took Allison several minutes to calm down to the point where she could breathe normally once more. I pulled her over to the lab station closest to the door, forcing her to sit up on the counter and lean her head against the wall, taking deep breaths. It was another few minutes before she stopped crying, or muttering things like "why" under her breath.

"We have to go out there, Sadie," she argued quietly when she'd composed herself. "I can't let him wander around the school by himself. He's gonna get himself killed."

"Allison, you're not going anywhere," I said firmly, gripping her arm tightly as if I was her anchor to the desk. "Trust me, Scott's much better off knowing you're here rather than out wandering where you could get hurt."

"He could die, Sadie!"

"I know," I replied calmly, which only seemed to enrage her.

"A-And you don't care?!"

"Of course I care!" I snapped. She pulled back at my quick response, and I took a deep breath. I couldn't explain to her why I felt safer letting Scott go than anyone else. "Of course I care," I repeated, this time in a much softer voice. "Scott's my friend, and if it was up to me, he wouldn't have gone out there at all. Okay? But he _is_ out there, and since we're not leaving him, we have to wait here and stay safe until he gets back."

"…What if he doesn't come back…?" she whimpered, and I could see her eyes brimming with tears once more. I took a deep breath, laying my hand over hers.

"Scott's gonna be fine," I assured her. Allison's eyes winced shut as if she was willing herself not to break down again.

"Why?" she sniveled. "Why would he think it was a good idea to go out there? Why would he leave us if he knew he could die?"

"I don't think he thinks it's a good idea," I defended him. "Scott's just trying to keep you safe." Allison let out a watery sob, which I assumed was supposed to be a sarcastic laugh, looking away from a moment before turning back.

"Then why won't he tell us the truth?" she begged. I bit my lip. "Sadie, I know you know he's lying to us. Why would he lie if he wanted to protect us?"

"Sometimes…" I trailed off, trying to choose my words carefully. "Sometimes the less people know about something, the safer they are. Sometimes it's just better that no one knows what's going on."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Allison demanded, frustrated tear slipping down her face once more.

"Ever heard of the phrase 'ignorance is bliss'?" I countered, making her scoff. "Look, whatever Scott's gotten himself involved in, it's obviously pretty goddamn dangerous. He probably thinks the less we know, the less trouble we'll get into."

"Trouble?" she asked derisively. "We're locked in the school about to be murdered! I don't care about the trouble! I just want Scott safe!"

"That's exactly how Scott feels," I replied, resting a hand on her arm. "Look, if you were part of something dangerous, if it could get Scott hurt, wouldn't you try and keep him out of it?" Allison sagged, her chin dropping down to her chest as she nodded her answer to her lap.

"Of course I would," she mumbled, causing me to smile sadly.

"And that would be kind of stupid. But you'd do it anyway… I know you want to go out there and be with him, but Scott's always gonna put your safety first."

"Do you really think that?" she asked, looking up through her eyelashes. I could see how vulnerable she was at that moment. She looked positively broken. She had no idea what was going on around her, and it was obvious that Scott was lying to her about something big. And because of that, she was beginning to doubt everything about him, even her feelings, which I knew from experience were already pretty strong. I nodded earnestly, moving the hand on her arm down to grip her hand.

"Even after this, after _all _of this, I still stand by everything I told your family," I informed her confidently. "Scott's just trying to do what's right. I think that everything he's doing right now is to keep you safe, to keep all of us safe. He may be a little stupid sometimes, but he means well. He's sweet and sincere, and I know he cares about you more than anything. Scott's a good guy. Even if he does occasionally get mixed up in slightly dangerous situations."

"Slightly dangerous situations?" Jackson repeated incredulously, inviting himself into the conversation. He'd walked over to us, Lydia still clinging onto his arm like it was the only thing on Earth that could save her. "I'm sorry, what part of 'he's killed three people and we're next' didn't you understand, Sadie?"

"I just mean he doesn't want this," I sighed in frustration. "It's not like Scott asked for any of this to happen. He's doing all he can to get us out of here."

"Yeah, by wandering around by himself with his little bomb? Real great plan," Jackson replied. I glared.

"I didn't see you volunteering to go out there to save us," I snapped. "You got a better idea?" Jackson clenched his jaw, staring down his nose at me imperiously but remaining quiet. "Yeah, that's what I thought. I'm not saying this was our best idea, but right now it's our only one. So just try and keep your mouth shut, Jackson." Lydia glanced between the two of us with worry, edging closer to her boyfriend, and I felt Allison's hand tighten around mine. I looked around the room, avoiding all of their looks, until I noticed Stiles sitting on the other side of the room by himself.

A large portion of me wanted to stay by the door, to stay close to Lydia, Allison and Jackson. I knew more than they did, and since they were all friends with me, I felt just as responsible for their safety as Scott did. I needed to keep an eye on them, to do all I could to keep them out of harm's way, even if that just meant keeping them in the classrom. But they were also all friends with each other. Lydia didn't look like she'd be releasing Jackson any time soon, and she and her boyfriend had both befriended Allison. But Stiles… Stiles wasn't really friends with any of them. His best friend was out roaming the halls with an Alpha werewolf, so currently…all he had was me. It was that thought, paired with the fact that I didn't want to be near Jackson at the moment, that made me pull my hand out of Allison's and cross the room. I knew they were all staring at my back as I walked away, but I forced myself to ignore them.

"Mind if I join you, Stilinski?" Stiles looked up at me from the floor. His back was pressed to the wall, legs bent in front of him as he rested his elbows on his knees. He'd been simply staring at his hands in silence for the last few minutes, and my sudden address caused him to jump slightly. He glanced over at the group on the opposite side of the room, who had turned in to face each other instead of watching us, and then back up to my slightly hesitant face.

"Uh, yeah," he said, scooting to the side slightly before patting a hand on the floor next to him. "Have a seat, Bennet." I smiled tightly, leaning my back on the wall and sliding down to the tile. "How you holding up?"

"Considering the situation?" I sighed. "I'd say I could be worse." Stiles nodded, taking a deep breath through his nose.

"See?" he started. "I told you you'd be fine when you…were actually forced to deal with this…" He lowered his voice towards the end of the sentence, glancing warily over at our company. I let out a short breath of laughter.

"Yeah, I'm not sure 'fine' would be the word I would use," I replied, running a hand through my hair. "I'm sorry I freaked out on you before."

"It's okay," he shrugged, but I was already shaking my head.

"No, it's not," I cut him off. "You know, I'm preaching to Allison about how she shouldn't be mad at Scott for risking his life to protect us, but that's exactly what I did to you. I'm sorry."

"It's really fine," Stiles assured me. "I know I wasn't thinking. And Scott's not either. Hell,_ I'm _mad at him. If he stuck around, I'm sure we could've thought of another way out… At least, I hope we could've…"

"I'm sure we would've," I agreed bracingly. "But now we've just gotta stick to the plan we've got." Stiles nodded, but didn't reply. He turned back to his hands, fiddling with his fingers as he sat in deep thought.

"It's just," he started after a long stretch of silence, "I wish he wouldn't have gone. I mean I know that he's got the best chance out there, but… Just sitting here, waiting around for him, it makes me feel…useless, you know?"

"You punched Jackson in the face," I offered with a smirk. "That wasn't useless."

"Yeah," Stiles replied sheepishly. "Sorry about that."

"No," I waved him off. "He deserved it, and it was kind of awesome." Stiles laughed half-heartedly, still staring at his hands. I observed him quietly for a moment as he sank back into his morose mood. "Stiles, you are not useless," I admonished, turning to look at him with furrowed brows. "You're not. Okay? Scott never would have gotten this far if it wasn't for all the shit you've done for him. Running out the door like that for the bolt cutters? That was _stupid_, but it was brave. And you've been able to keep a level head, which is more than I can say for myself. Thank you, by the way, for not saying I told you so."

"What?" he asked, turning to look at me with pure confusion. "Why would I say that?"

"I froze up earlier," I reminded him. "Like, completely, non-functioning froze, and you had to deal with me even though you didn't want me coming in the first place. So…" But Stiles didn't let me finish.

"Sadie, you saved our asses back there," he praised. "Okay? Forget everything I said about not wanting you to come. I mean, I wish you didn't have to deal with all of this, but if you weren't here I don't know what would have happened to Scott and I, so…thanks for not listening."

"You're welcome," I replied with a smirk. "I will probably continue to not listen to you in the future."

"And thank you," Stiles added, playfully glaring at my remark, "for siding with me on the whole police thing." My smirk slowly slid from my face.

"Uh, yeah," I responded, both nodding and shaking my head at the same time. "It's nothing, uh… You were right. They don't know what it really is, and calling the police could just get more people hurt."

"It could get my _dad_ hurt," Stiles emphasized, making my heart tighten a little more. "So thanks for being with me on that. I mean, it almost sounded like you wanted me to call my dad even less than I did." He'd said it offhandedly, even with a slight chuckle in his voice, though I couldn't tell if it was a nervous one because we were still waiting for the sheriff to call us back, or if it was because the idea that someone cared more about his father than him was laughable in itself. Regardless, I let the statement hang in the air, not meeting his eye. The chuckle died out, and then it was me who was staring at my hands in the silence. I could feel it every time Stiles glanced over at me, the smile now completely absent from my face.

"It's because of my dad," I whispered. I instantly felt Stiles stiffen next to me. He'd always been able to sense that my father was a sensitive topic, and while he didn't yet have the full story about what had happened, he knew that my father had been part of the police force.

"Oh God, Sadie," he started softly. "I-I'm sorry. I wasn't…" He trailed off at my lack of response. I slowly moved my legs from their bent position to have them crisscrossed in front of me, leaning my elbows on my knees. My fingers came up to glide across the dog tags, now feeling like a weight around my neck, heavy, but not a burden. But at the same time, holding them didn't give me the same reassured feeling I normally got. I still felt like I was teetering on the edge, and the dog tags weren't enough to pull me back. Before I could stop myself, before I really knew what I was even doing, I started speaking.

"It was supposed to be his day off…" I whispered, staring at the scuffed floor tiles in front of me intently. "He was just…playing around with the radio, like how I used to ask him to when I was a kid… He'd quiz me on what all the code numbers meant or, or let me talk to his friends if it was a slow day… And usually it was I mean… Small town in California. We never really had any cases or problems, just like…like shoplifting or traffic violations, small stuff… But not that day…" I slowly slid the dog tags on my neck back and forth along the chain, tugging hard and feeling the jolt up my arm every time the metal pulled over another link on the chain. "Everyone was in a panic because there was a, a 211 in progress…"

"Armed robbery," Stiles muttered morosely. I allowed myself a sad smile momentarily, nodding slightly.

"Yeah…yeah, an armed robbery at a bank a couple streets away from my house. Everyone one the radio was freaking out and trying to figure out what to do. I mean, it's not like they didn't know, but it was weird cause it was the first time anything like that had ever happened. And dad… He didn't have to go in, but he heard the report and wanted to help. So he grabbed his stuff, and he went over as a first responder. And he was one of the first people there, because we lived so close, so…so when they found out that the guy had locked down the place with hostages, they sent him in to talk him down…" My voice was slightly shaking at that point, the metal of the dog tags leaving dents in my palm I was holding them so tight. I took a deep breath through my nose, closing my eyes. Even the tiles seemed hard to look at when I told the story. "Apparently he was doing a pretty good job of it. I mean, none of the guys were really trained negotiators but my dad…they say he was pretty convincing… The guy at the bank was just a kid, though. Just some desperate guy who needed cash for loans and family hospital bills… They… They said that his dad had just died, but since it was a suicide he wasn't getting any of the insurance money. His mom was sick and I guess he just…snapped…" That was usually the part where I started crying, but while I could feel the familiar pricking feeling behind my eyes, my cheeks remained dry. "He'd almost gotten him to put the gun down when one of the hostages tried to make a break for it… It was just this little girl, like four years old? She'd been stuck on the other side of the room from her mom, and she was so scared that she just kinda ran for her by the door and…it spooked the guy, and before he really knew what was happening, he shot him… He still had the gun on him and then, he shot my dad…" I paused once again, trying to keep my breathing even. Beneath the sadness and concentration, I was more amazed than anything else. I'd never made it this far through the tale without crying profusely, and yet this time only a tear or two had slipped down my face, completely silent. "The guy was mortified when he'd realized what he'd done, and he let everyone go right away. Went with the cops quietly, pleaded guilty…but…didn't matter… Dad was still gone…"

When the hand fell on my shoulder, I gave a start, jumping a little in my seat as I was snapped back to reality. I'd almost forgotten that Stiles was there, sitting next to me on the cold floor and watching me with concern, sorrow and complete understanding. It wasn't a look I was used to receiving. Normally when I talked about my father's death, which happened very rarely, I got looks of pity, or uncomfortable attempts at sadness. I'd received a few looks of real sympathy, but never this full understanding. Stiles's hand was large and warm on my shoulder, his fingers moving slightly over the fabric of my hoodie in a soothing, comforting manner. He was only the second person I'd told in Beacon Hills, the first of course being Lydia. And Lydia had hugged me and held me when I cried, but she couldn't truly fathom how I felt. Her parents were separated by papers, not death, and while I knew she felt terrible for me, I knew she didn't quite get it. But Stiles… Stiles did. To him my story had been a confirmation of his worst nightmare, something he thought about at night that made his blood run cold. He could easily lose his dad in the same way I had, even if there weren't werewolves running around the town. And that couldn't happen, because his dad was all he had left. I didn't want to stand by and let Stiles call the police, call his dad into a situation he didn't need to be in when there was a chance he could die. I wouldn't let that happen to Stiles, and I physically couldn't watch it happen again.

"My mom…she got sick…" Stiles offered as a response. I looked over at him to find that his head was still turned in my direction, but his eyes were blankly staring past me. "We thought it was just a cold at first, and then maybe the flu or something… It just kept going on like that for a while, so… no one realized it was serious until it was too late." He trailed off, his fingers still moving over my shoulder, seemingly of their own accord, as Stiles seemed completely lost in his own thoughts. "She stayed in the hospital for like a year. But you know, even just a couple months made it feel like it was a lifetime, like I'd never seen her not in the hospital. But even when she was there, it was like…she would always act like everything was normal. I never really realized how bad she was getting because she wouldn't let me. She'd just…pretend she was fine. I'd go over after school and she'd help me with my homework. She let me rant about Lydia or watch movies with me on the television in her room. And she'd just keep smiling and laughing, and complaining about how much she wanted to get out of there." Stiles's fingers had stopped moving, though his hand still radiated heat through my shirt. He squeezed my shoulder slightly, as if subconsciously reassuring himself that I was still there for support. "And then I started noticing the little stuff….like how she had bags under her eyes all the time, or how she coughed more between sentences. Her voice…her voice started getting a lot quieter and I always had to get stuff for her cause her arm couldn't reach over to the table. And she was still smiling and saying she was fine, but that's when I started to realize that things weren't okay… That was a month or two before…" Even now, years later, it didn't seem like he could make himself say it. My heart broke a little as I noticed his eyes glistening, and I reached up and placed my hand over his on my shoulder. Stiles looked up at me, his cheeks splotchy and his long eyelashes wet as they worked to keep the tears from falling down his face. "And you're right…nothing after that mattered. I started… I had panic attacks because she was gone. She'd always been the one taking care of me, you know? And then it was just me and Dad… And it's never been the same, even between us. Now I feel like I have to take care of him, cause…" He stopped again, either incapable or unsure of how to finish his sentence. But he didn't have to finish to make me understand. He took care of his dad because he didn't want to lose him, because he was all he had left, because he wouldn't lose him like he'd lost his mother. Stiles couldn't go through that again.

I lightly moved my hand once more, edging my fingers under his so that I was holding them. Stiles looked at our hands through his tear laced lashes before glancing up to my face. I smiled softly, and he attempted to return the gesture, squeezing my hand feebly.

"She sounds like she was pretty amazing," I complimented. Stiles nodded, pulling his hands back into his lap.

"Yeah, she was," he replied hoarsely. "We were really close. Kind of like you and your mom."

"Well, I know they have at least one thing in common," I informed him, leaning my back on the wall again and letting my head loll to the side to look at him with a smirk. "They both love you." Stiles's smile grew from thinking about his mom to detecting the joke. He let out a small breath of laughter, which encouraged me to do the same now that I knew I'd been successful in aiding his solemn mood. "Seriously, she really, really likes you. It's actually kind of weird."

"If it helps, my dad really likes you too," he commented with a grin.

"Hm, me or my chili?" I asked jokingly, causing Stiles to shake his head.

"Nah, he wouldn't use you for your food," he assured me. "Maybe to get me to do my homework, but not for food." I chuckled.

Our conversation literally screeched to a halt in the next second. A loud howl ripped through the air. Everyone in the room jumped slightly, heads whipping back and forth as we tried to find the source of the noise. Lydia clapped her hands over her ears and I turned to Stiles with wide eyes. I was about to comment on the distance of the howl, when a different wail cut me off. My head snapped back to the door as Jackson keeled forward gripping the back of his neck.

"Jackson?!" I called. In an instant, I was scrambling across the room, still half on my knees in my rush to get to him. Stiles had jumped to his feet and run across the room with me, while Allison and Lydia stood back with wide terrified eyes. "Jackson, what's wrong?" I asked firmly over his yells, resting a hand on his back. It was very obviously something wrong with his neck, but the fact that his pain seemed to coincide with what could only be the Alpha's howl had me extremely worried. Jackson didn't answer, but after a minute his screams subsided. He groaned, his face still scrunched up in pain, but it at least seemed to have lessened. I glanced up at Lydia, who instantly recognized my silent request for help. She moved to my side, and with Allison at Jackson's other shoulder we dragged the boy back into a standing position.

"No, I'm fine," he whined as our hands lingered tentatively near him. One hand still glued to the back of his neck, he pushed away from all of us, taking a few steps back and glaring. "Like seriously, I'm okay."

"That didn't sound okay at all," Allison said, voice brimming with concern. The only one who didn't seem concerned was Stiles, who was craning his neck and looking curiously at the collar of Jackson's jacket.

"What's on the back of your neck?" he asked, reaching a hand out. Jackson immediately slapped it away, turning to Stiles with a wide-eyed, murderous look. We all exchanged glances. Jackson sighed, stepping back again and rubbing his neck with his hand.

"Is it the scratches?" I asked quietly. Jackson glared at me silently, but his lack of response was enough of an answer.

"Scratches?" Stiles repeated in a high voice, looking back and forth between Jackson and I. "What scratches?"

"None of your goddamn business, Stilinski," Jackson spat, but I bit my lip.

"From Derek," I informed Stiles warily. "The day…you had to take Derek to the hospital…" Stiles eyebrows shot up, and I realized that I hadn't mentioned it to him since I had discovered what Derek really was. I shot Jackson a wary side-glance, suddenly more than a little worried about the werewolf-inflicted injury.

"Jackson," Lydia started, but he cut her off.

"I said I'm fine." Lydia huffed, pursing her lips and crossing her arms over her chest.

"Well it's been there for days," she snapped. "He still won't let me take him to get them checked out."

"As if you actually care!" Jackson retorted venomously. Lydia recoiled, dropping her eyes and pouting slightly.

"Jackson, shut the fuck up," I barked, taking a step closer to my visibly hurt best friend. "Of course we care, and you're obviously not fine if it's still hurting like a week later."

"It's a scratch," he said shortly. "It hurt for a sec. I'm fine."

"Oh yeah," I replied sarcastically. "That's why you collapsed on the floor screeching, cause your cuts twinged a little bit."

"Why don't you just shut up and mind your own business, Sadie," he growled. I returned his glare challengingly.

"Wow that was a great comeback. What else you got, jackass?"

"Alright," Stiles interrupted, raising his hands and stepping between the two of us. "Can we not argue for half a second here?" I wrapped an arm around Lydia's shoulders while Allison shifted her weight between her feet nervously.

"Where's Scott?" she muttered, running a hand through her hair. "He should be back by now." An anxious hush fell over all of us as we each thought about Scott's chances of survival after that massive roar had practically shaken the entire school. And then into the silence, there was a loud _click_.

All five of us spun towards the door, and my heart leapt into my throat. I was fully prepared to see the red, glowing eyes of the Alpha through the small window, poised to pounce and knock the door down before it slaughtered us all, Scott out of the way. Instead, there was a dark, human silhouette that, judging by the height and what could be made out of his face, could only be one person.

"Scott!" Allison exclaimed before the rest of us could recover. She jumped for the door, throwing the stool out of the way and slamming her hand on the handle. But it didn't budge. She shook the handle violently, trying to open the door as Scott's shadow disappeared.

"Scott!"

"Where is he going?" Lydia asked no one in particular, and Stiles and I shared a nervous look.

"Scott," Allison was still calling. "Scott!" Her voice broke in desperation as she used one hand to rattle the handle and the other to bang repeatedly on the door. "Scott! Scott!"

"Stop," Lydia ordered suddenly, stepping out of my grasp. "Stop!" We all froze as her shrill voice rose over Allison's frantic cries. "Do you hear that?" Lydia turned away from the door, a sliver of hope peeking through the terror on her face. "Listen." Every single one of us froze, following her eyes to the window as we held our breath. And then I did hear it. In the distance, but growing louder with each passing second was the sound of sirens wailing. Lydia, Allison and Jackson seemed relieved as they all dashed to the window to look out into the parking lot. But the sound made my heart drop to my stomach, and judging by the blank look Stiles's face, his had too. We both sprinted to the window after them, watching with apprehension as the sheriff's cruiser pulled up next to the demolished Jeep, lights and sirens blaring.

"Hey!" Jackson bellowed, pounding on the glass as Sheriff Stilinski climbed out of the vehicle, shining a flashlight on the hood of his son's car. "Hey! Up here!"

"Stop! Stop!" Stiles ordered, forcing Jackson's arms away from the glass. He growled, shoving Stiles off.

"What? He's right there!"

"Yeah, and you know who else is around? Derek!" Stiles reminded him angrily. "Just cause the cops are here doesn't mean we're safe yet." Jackson shared a look with Lydia and Allison as they all took a few steps back from the window. Stiles pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialing his dad's phone number once more. "Dad!" he greeted when he'd picked up the phone, trying to keep his voice down. "Yeah, yeah, we're all fine. Okay, look up." Stiles peered out the window, waving his hands to catch his father's attention. "I'm here with Sadie, Lydia, Allison and Jackson and we're completely locked in. I got no idea where Scott is and there's someone really dangerous on the loose… Okay, just, please be careful…" The phone lingered by his ear after his dad had disconnected, too worried to actually say goodbye. I walked over to him and planted myself at his side.

"Well?" Allison asked, chewing lightly on her thumbnail. Stiles looked up quickly.

"They're sending a few guys up to get us out of here, and they're gonna search the school for Scott."

"Thank God," Lydia gasped in relief, looping her arm around Jackson's. Finally out of his pissy mood now that back up had arrived, he let her, actually tugging her a little closer to his side. We all waited with baited breath, anxiously watching the door as we prayed the police would find us first. A few minutes later, a blinding flashlight was pointed through the small window.

"Stiles?!" a voice called in worry, and I instantly recognized the sheriff's tone.

"Y-Yeah!" Stiles yelled back, his voice full of excitement and relief. "Dad! We're in here!"

"Oh thank God," I heard the sheriff sigh. "Get this door open! Kids, get back!" I assume the order had been barked at his additional officers, because the door began to swell as it was bombarded from the other side. The violent noise made us all instinctively take a few steps back, even though we were already on the opposite side of the room from the door. Finally, the door was knocked off its hinges, slamming to the floor with a loud crack. Two police officers stormed in speeding over to us with flashlights in hand. They tried to usher us out of the room, but Stiles dodged their arms, sprinting for the door himself. I ran after him, leaping over the fallen door and skidding into the hallway to find him embracing his father tightly. My heart rose out of my stomach once more, realizing that they were both completely fine. "Sadie," the sheriff sighed, with what I realized in a few seconds was relief. He pulled away from his son slightly and, to my great surprise, tugged me to his side and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. He squeezed briefly, giving me a half hug to let me know he was glad I was okay. I thought back briefly to how Stiles had said his dad really liked me too. "Come on," he said, turning Stiles and I around and resting a hand on each of our shoulders. "Let's get you guys out of here." We followed the other two officers, Lydia, Allison, and Jackson down the hallway and back down stairs towards the front of the school. Stiles explained briefly to his father that Derek Hale had killed the janitor, and had been trying to kill us, so his dad and his officers knew what to look for. I remained completely silent. Even now that we were relatively safe, and we hadn't seen Derek for hours, I refused to use him as a scapegoat. It just didn't sit right with me, especially when all I could see anytime someone said his name was either him smirking as I laughed at his joke, or his bleeding body suspended in the air. He'd pushed me away from him to protect me, the last thing before he'd been viciously clawed, if not killed. I would not throw him under the bus.

As we approached the exit to the outside of the school, I recognized a mop of dark hair standing by the doors, accompanied a police officer at his shoulder.

"Scott!" I exclaimed, running out of the sheriff's grasp and sprinting over to him. I immediately pulled him into a constricting hug, then pulled back to assure myself that he was fine. I knew he would probably heal regardless, but I still wanted, still needed to make sure.

"Sadie," he sighed in relief. "God, you're okay." His body was in completely normal condition, not a scratch on him, but I noticed that his face was covered in sweat. I wiped his mop of hair off his forehead in concern.

"Yeah, fine. Are you?" Scott didn't respond, instead looking past me as Lydia, Jackson and Allison were all escorted out of the school without a word. Allison stared at Scott in hurt and confusion, before she disappeared to the outside world. I felt Scott sag under my hands, and pulled him into another hug.

"Found him a couple hallways over," the police officer informed Sheriff Stilinski, as he and Stiles walked up behind me.

"Scott, you okay?" the sheriff asked, hand still on his son's shoulder. I pulled away from Scott, leaving one arm on his back while his was still wrapped around my waist.

"Yes, sir," he replied with a shaky nod. "Just a little freaked out."

"Yeah," the Sheriff replied shortly, nodding. "Now do one of you want to tell me what the hell you were doing at school in the middle of the night in the first place?"

"It was me," I answered, before either of the boys could even open their mouths. Everyone turned to me with slight surprise. "Stiles, Scott and I were supposed to be studying for economics, but I forgot my book in my locker. I asked Stiles to swing by." The sheriff cocked an eyebrow disbelievingly.

"Your grades that important that you were gonna break in to get to your locker?" I gave a small, unsure smile.

"No, of course not. I was just gonna check to see if any of the doors were open, or if the janitor could let me in for a second. But when we got here the door was already open and…" I trailed off, wrapping both of my arms around my torso. Scott moved his arm from my waist bracingly up to my shoulder.

"Derek Hale was already here," he finished, ignoring the way I'd stiffened at the elder werewolf's name. We'd already started with one story, and now we had to stick to it. "We were just trying to get Sadie's stuff and get out, but the janitor found us, and then Derek. He killed the janitor and we ran for it." Mr. Stilinski sighed, raising a hand to his head.

"Okay, why are the rest of your friends here?" The three of us shared a look, unsure as to whether or not we should inform him about the mysterious text message.

"Sadie," Stiles said quickly, causing my head to snap up. "Uh, she'd mentioned to Lydia that we were stopping by, and when she didn't pick up her phone, she, Jackson and Allison came looking for her." I nodded fervently when the sheriff looked my way, confirming Stiles's story.

"And why the hell didn't you all stick together?" he asked, looking pointedly at Scott.

"We tried to," he replied. "But we all ended up in the chemistry room with no way out, so…so I left to try and get the janitor's keys so we could get to the roof and make a break for Jackson's car."

"You did what?!"

"I know it was stupid," Scott replied, cringing slightly at the sheriff's disapproval. "But we didn't know what else to do!"

"How about stay in the room together until the police showed up?" Mr. Stilinski supplied, crossing his arms over his chest and giving Scott a hard look. Scott nodded sheepishly, ducking his head. The sheriff sighed. "I'm glad you three are alright." He looked briefly over his shoulder as three more police officers entered, guns held high. "Scott, did you ever find the janitor's body?"

"Y-Yeah," he said in a wavering voice. "Derek moved him to the gym, under the bleachers. He tried to shut them on me when I went to get the keys, but I got out."

"What?!" Stiles asked with wide eyes, and the sheriff nodded solemnly.

"Okay. We're gonna search the school for his body and put an APB out on Derek Hale. Then I can give you a ride home. Just, the three of you stay here, okay? No wandering off." Stiles, Scott and I all nodded, and with one last pat on his son's shoulder, Sheriff Stilinski and the cop disappeared down the hall. We waited for a few seconds for them to be out of earshot before rounding on Scott.

"Dude," Stiles started as we inched father into the corner. "What the hell happened?!"

"I found the body in the gym," Scott started, and I shook my head.

"Yeah, we got that. You got the keys and almost became a werewolf and bleacher sandwich. What happened after that?"

"It was the Alpha," Scott confirmed nervously. "I through the thing at him but it didn't blow up. It just kind of shattered and made him angrier." I groaned.

"I knew I shouldn't have let anyone else help Lydia," I hissed, but Scott continued without comment.

"It threw me into the middle of the gym, and I thought it was gonna kill me for a second, but it just howled really loudly and then ran off."

"Yeah, we heard that," Stiles commented, nodding with wide eyes. "But why the hell did you lock us in the chem room?"

"It was him," Scott answered. "The Alpha, he—he forced me to shift. I knew I was gonna hurt you guys, so I focused on Allison's voice like you told me too, and I just kinda snapped out of it. I locked you guys in so you didn't run out if I was still wolfed out." I nodded and let out a deep breath, happy to finally have a reason for Scott's actions. Then another thought hit me.

"The howl made you wolf out?" I asked, and he nodded.

"Yeah, call of the Alpha I guess. Why?" I glanced at Stiles.

"That must be why Jackson collapsed."

"What?" Scott demanded. "Jackson collapsed? When?!"

"Right after the thing howled," Stiles explained, nodding at me. "You think it's got something to do with the scratches?"

"What scratches?!" Scott asked again, near frantic. I sighed, turning to them both.

"Look, the day Derek came looking for you when he was shot, he ran into Jackson first. I don't know if he did it on purpose or if he couldn't control himself, but when Jackson refused to tell him where you were, he freaked and clawed the back of his neck."

"So he'd being affected by a werewolf wound?" Scott asked, wide eyed.

"I wouldn't worry about it too much," I assured him. "It hasn't healed, and he hasn't gained any powers or reflexes. I'll keep an eye on him, but before tonight it didn't seem to be acting up." Scott nodded, reluctantly accepting my reassurance.

"So what happened with you two?" he asked after a few seconds. Stiles sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Us? Absolutely nothing. Jackson keeled over and was an asshole. He and Sadie fought a lot, and I had to break it up. But it was pretty awesome." I rolled my eyes, but grinned slightly. We continued to discuss the night's events in the corner until Sheriff Stilinski returned from his search. He walked past us, waving a hand to indicate that we should follow him out.

"You sure it was Derek Hale?" the sheriff asked yet again over his shoulder.

"Yes," Scott answered firmly, Stiles and I jogging up to his side as we went down the steps.

"I saw him too," Stiles agreed.

"You, Sadie?" Stiles's father asked, glancing at me behind him. I bit my lip.

"No," I said finally, and Stiles and Scott both looked at me with wild wide eyes. "The boys kind of kept me behind them and immediately started pushing me the other way. I didn't see who it was I just…heard it…" Stiles looked away with a sigh, exasperated that I was still standing by Derek. "…sorry…" I added, but I wasn't sure whether I was directing it at the sheriff for making the case slightly harder, or at Stiles for not agreeing with him

"No, no, that's fine," Sheriff Stilinski disregarded, shaking his head slightly.

"What about the janitor?" Scott asked, causing the sheriff to sigh.

"We're still looking," he informed us, not pausing in his stride.

"Did you check under the bleachers? Under them?"

"Yeah, Scott, we looked," Stiles's father snapped. "We pulled them out, just like you said. There's nothing."

"I'm not making this up," Scott said firmly.

"I know," the sheriff assured him. "I believe you, I do."

"No you don't!" Scott protested as we all came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. Stiles leaned on the railing to the stairs, and I shuffled a little closer to his side as we watched the altercation before us. "You have this look like…you feel bad for me. Like you wanna believe me, but I know you don't." Sheriff Stilinski considered Scott silently for a few seconds.

"Listen," he started, his voice much more gentle now. "We're gonna search this whole school. We're gonna find him. Okay? I promise." Scott's shoulders sagged at his response, knowing they were the comforting words of an official trying to keep the child in front of him calm, but didn't argue. Mr. Stilinski looked up as someone called him from across the parking lot. "Stay," he instructed as he began to walk away, then added, "All of you." Stiles held up his hands and leaned back onto the railing he'd been about to push off of. Scott turned around and the three of us huddled closely together to continue our conversation.

"Well, we survived guys!" Stiles hailed, looking between the two of us exhaustedly. "You know? We outlasted the Alpha! That's still good right? Being alive?" I returned the grin that Stiles shot my way, but Scott didn't seem nearly as pleased.

"Sadie was right," he whispered, taking a step closer. "When we were in the chemistry room, he walked right by us. You don't think that it heard us? You don't think it knew exactly where we were?"

"Well then, how come we're still alive?" Stiles asked, shaking his head lightly.

"It wants me in its pack," Scott answered, raising his voice. He stopped himself quickly, sighing as he looked around at the scattered police officers that might overhear him. He lowered his voice. "But I-I think first… I _have_ to get rid of my old pack…" I furrowed my brow, clearly just as confused as Stiles.

"What do you mean? What old pack?" he asked crossing his arms. Scott looked between the two of us, suddenly very solemn.

"Allison," he listed. "Jackson, Lydia…you two…" My confusion slowly dissolved into a look of sorrow and fear. I exchanged a long glance with Stiles, whose lips were slightly parted in shock of his own realization.

"The Alpha doesn't want to kill us," he stated quietly. Scott shook his head, turning away so he wouldn't have to look at Stiles or me.

"He wants me to do it," he muttered, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "And that's not even the worst part!"

"How in h-holy hell is that not the worst part, Scott?!" Stiles exclaimed, holding his arms out wide. I remembered the silhouette of Scott's face in the chemistry door's window, and my heart tightened in fear of his answer.

"Because when he made me shift," he replied, turning around once more. "I wanted to do it." Stiles froze with his hands in pockets, looking up at his best friend and clearly hurt. "I wanted to kill you," Scott rambled on. "All of you." We sat in silence for a minute, each internally contemplating that fact. I lifted a hand to Scott's shoulder.

"Scott, that was the Alpha taking control of you," I comforted. "The wolf in you wants to kill, and today you proved you have control over it. You can't blame yourself for that." Clearly, Scott _could_ blame himself for that, and visibly was. But he didn't respond. Instead, he slipped out of my hand walking towards the parking lot. I looked ahead and saw he was heading for an ambulance with someone sitting at the back.

"That's Deaton," Stiles whispered to me, placing a hand on my shoulder before he moved to follow Scott. "Stay over here." I nodded, more than happy to stay miles away from our number one suspect for the Alpha. After a few seconds of standing there alone, chewing my lip and shifting my weight between my feet, I decided that while I didn't want to go over to the vet, I had to do something.

A pair of green eyes flashed behind my eyelids and suddenly, I knew exactly what I needed to check. I quietly stole into the parking lot, creeping around Stiles's Jeep to get a good look at the parking lot. I noticed with a lurch that there wasn't a single black Camaro in sight. Looking around, there was no bleeding, black-leather coated body either. There couldn't have been, otherwise one of the cops would have said something. Surely a body wouldn't have gone unnoticed for this long. I sighed in slight relief. So far, it seemed like there was a pretty good chance Derek was alive.

I jumped with a light squeal when a large hand landed on my shoulder, wheeling around to find Sheriff Stilinski squinting down at me.

"What part of 'stay here all of you' do you kids not get?" he asked tiredly, shaking his head slightly.

"Apparently the 'stay' part," I replied with a nervous smile. The sheriff raised his eyebrows, gripping my shoulder once more.

"Come on, Sadie," he coaxed. "You kids don't need to be here any more." We walked past the ambulance, and he sighed again as he discovered his son and his best friend pestering what to him was just another victim. "Guys come on," he insisted, resting his other hand on Stiles's back. "Let's let the EMTs do their job. You can talk to him later." The boys followed us away for a few seconds until Scott peeled of to the right, sprinting away. The sheriff opened his mouth to argue until we noticed he was running after a figure with long, dark hair. Allison. "Sadie do you need a ride home?" he asked, turning back to Stiles and I instead.

"Oh, no, I should probably just ride with Lydia and Jackson," I assured them, glancing over to the edge of the parking lot where the two were standing quietly by the Porsche. He nodded.

"Okay, then. Get home safe. Stiles, please actually stay here this time." Sheriff Stilinski patted my shoulder before walking away to a group of nearby police officers, leaving Stiles and I alone. We looked around for a few seconds, both in the same stance with our hands in our pockets.

"So," he piped a moment later. "Crazy night." I raised my eyebrows, laughing quietly but uncontrollably. "Actually I guess that's kind of an understatement," he chuckled along.

"Yeah, just a bit," I agreed, running a hand through my hair. "God, you realize I only started talking to you again this morning?" Stiles nodded, absent-mindedly scratching at his neck as he continued to laugh. "I just want to go home and sleep for like a week."

"Yeah, I get that," he smirked. "But hey, 187 at the school? They'll probably shut it down for a day or two." I grinned, but then it slowly slipped off my face. Not only because we were out here, laughing and alive, while the janitor's body still hadn't been found, but because of Stiles's use of ten-code.

"Hey, Stiles," I said quietly, causing the maple eyes to dart directly to my own chocolate ones in the dark. "Thanks…for listening…" Stiles opened and closed his mouth once or twice.

"Yeah, anytime," he nodded.

"It's been a while since I…" I trailed off, biting my lip and looking down at my shoes.

"Yeah. Me too." I glanced back up at him through my lashes, and we both stood still for a few seconds. A car door slammed somewhere and snapped me out of my daze.

"Uh, I should probably go. Jackson, Lydia…"

"Y-Yeah, yeah go ahead, sorry." I took a deep breath, standing up to my full height. I stepped forward, wrapping my arms around Stiles's torso for a moment and resting my chin on his shoulder. Stiles responded quickly, wrapping his arms around my waist and squeezing gently.

"It's kinda nice to have both my arms back," I whispered, lips twitching into a smile as I breathed in the smell of Stiles's jacket. He chuckled again, and I could feel the laugh against my chest.

"I'm kinda glad you have them back, too," he replied softly, pulling away. I took a few steps backward, and even after everything that happened at school, I seemed to be stalling my departure. "Hey, text me when you get home, okay?" Stiles asked, sticking his hands back in his pockets. I nodded firmly.

"Will do," I conceded with a mock salute. Stiles smirked.

"I'm glad you're okay, Bennet."

"Right back at ya, Stilinski." I grinned, sending Stiles a small wave before I turned around and walked away. I glanced around the parking lot as I walked, hoping to wave goodbye to Scott too, but I spotted him standing by himself in the middle of the parking lot, Allison storming away from him. I faltered in my walk, planning on going over to comfort them, either one of them, before Lydia snatched up my arm.

"Finally," she breathed tugging me over to the Porsche. "Let's get out of here." Reluctantly, I let Jackson push me into the backseat, staring out the back window at Scott as Lydia and Jackson climbed in up front. The engine roared to life, and I managed to send Stiles a quick wave before Jackson floored it out of the parking lot. Already, my eyelids were beginning to droop. I didn't want to deal with explaining the story to my mother, or Miss Eleanor, or anyone else who might ask. After my first full day on "Team Wolf," training Scott to control his powers, talking to Derek Hale, running around the school with my friends and trying to escape a murderous Alpha werewolf, I thought, all I wanted to do was sleep.

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys! Sorry this chapter is a teeny bit late. I ran into a wall writing wise, and I'm trying hard as I can to get over of it so I can keep updating. Thank you to all of the wonderful reviews I got! To CypherToorima, wordsh4ker, daisea, Tired and Inspired, Lojo2014o, Isaac fan, xxxxninaxxxx, heroherondaletotherescue, becca1130, Kelly1432, RBL54, ScornedxRose, vanillaclouds101, LifeToDeath, JaliyahR, BananasGoneCrazy42, xALFiex, RealHuntress18, KageNoUta27, GetsueiNoYume, realityalways-getsintheway, and of course ** forlornwriter ** (That was literally the highlight of my week, you are so wonderful!)**

**I'll work hard as I can on this chapter I'm writing, but 18 probably won't be up for at least another 2 or 3 days. But it WILL be up soon, promise! Thank you all so much for your continued support! Also...**

_****This chapter of The Wild Side is dedicated to Erica Reyes and Vernon Boyd, two members of Derek's pack who died fighting and made the best of every situation. R.I.P. ****_

**-Brittney**


	18. Chapter 18

As predicted, our mothers hadn't let us go to sleep until Lydia and I gave them the full story of what had happened. Well, my version of what had happened. I'd convinced Lydia to leave out the part about the text message for the sake of everyone's sanity. Our mothers didn't need to be more worried than they already were, and if they thought someone was luring us, or rather Allison, in on purpose, we'd probably never be let out of their sight again. Lydia had been almost dead set against it, but by the time we'd climbed to the front door, she had reluctantly caved. So we told our mothers about how I'd gone to study with Stiles and Scott, how I'd forgotten my book and the others came looking for me. And then, I had to tell them about Derek Hale, and how he'd killed all those people.

After recounting the story, I felt twice as tired as I had before I started, as if by telling the story I had run around the school all over again. I collapsed into bed with Lydia, who had decided to spend the night in my room for security, barely managing to get into a pair of pajamas before I passed out. I slept for basically the entirety of Thursday, waking up occasionally to get food or go to the bathroom. Friday I woke up to Lydia practically beating me with my own pillow.

"Oh my God, Sadie just get up!"

"Wha?" I asked, finally sitting up. I could feel my hair sticking up in different directions, and if my friend hadn't been so annoyed with me, she probably would have laughed.

"Your phone's been ringing off the hook for like the last hour," she complained, flopping down next to me once more. "Allison and Scott broke up."

"Wait, what?!" I frantically twisted back and forth, hands flying over and under the covers as I tried to find my phone. Lydia huffed, crossing her arms and holding up my phone in her hand.

"Don't worry, I answered as you," she consoled me, looking so collected on her back, her hair splayed over the pillow, that it was actually infuriating. "I'm not gonna let her get mad at her best friends when she just dumped McCall."

"Wha-? She dumped him?! Why?!" I repeated, wiping a hand down my face as my only barely-conscious body tried to process that mind-boggling information. I knew how much she liked Scott, from personal experience of listening to her rant about him for hours on end.

"Um, maybe because of what happened at school?" Lydia offered, chuckling dryly. "He trapped us in a classroom with a murderer on the loose. Not exactly trustworthy boyfriend material."

"He didn't just lock us in. He locked Derek out," I reminded her for what felt like the hundredth time. Even after repeating myself so often, Derek's name was dry on my tongue. I hated becoming part of the lie, but unfortunately thanks to Scott's quick thinking, I had to stick to the story I had been provided with. No matter how much I hated it.

"Yeah, okay, trying to protect us, whatever," Lydia brushed off, inspecting her nails in boredom. "Either way she dumped him, so I invited her over to stay the night."

"What are we doing?" I asked, running a hand through my hair in an attempt to smooth it down.

"Well, as her best friends it is our duty to take her mind off everything relating to Scott McCall. So, we are getting up, we are getting dressed, we are going to pick up Allison, and we are going to treat her to a completely male-free day. Which means you need to move." Without letting me respond, Lydia's arm shot out, completely pushing me out of bed. I half tumbled onto the floor, legs still tangled in my own sheets and refusing to follow me in my descent. Lydia practically cackled, clapping her hands as she sat up and watched me writhe on the floor. I was so relieved that she was acting normally after the incident on Wednesday that I couldn't even bring myself to be slightly annoyed at her. I let out a muffled giggle, face pressed into the carpet as I worked to free my feet from their fabric shackles.

A little over two hours later, Lydia and I were pulling up in front of Allison's house in the black Beetle. All of the Argents seemed very happy to see us safe and sound. Kate pulled me slightly aside while Lydia chatted with Mr. and Mrs. Argent.

"Hey kiddo, how you holding up?"

"Honestly? Pretty well, considering," I replied, shrugging a little bit.

"You mean considering you ran a marathon through the school with a murderer on your ass?" she asked, raising her eyebrows and smirking slightly. I chuckled.

"Yeah, something like that," I nodded, ducking my head. Kate rested a hand on my arm.

"Are you okay, though? You look like you haven't been sleeping."

"Actually, yesterday all I did was sleep," I informed her with a tired smirk. "It's just been…a really, really tough week."

"Yeah, I get that," she grinned, rubbing my shoulder gently. "Listen, you need anything, you let us know, okay? We wanna make sure you girls are safe." I smiled, nodding my head as I looked up at her.

"I will. Thanks, Kate." I glanced over her shoulder to see Allison trudging down the stairs, bag slung over her shoulder and trying, and failing, to keep a convincing smile on her face. "Hey," I greeted, side stepping her aunt and going over to hug her. Allison's arms felt weak around me, but I wasn't sure if that was because she was tired, depressed, or unenthusiastic because she'd been calling me for so long before she got an answer. I pulled back, grabbing the duffel bag from her. "I got this, you get in the car." Allison's family smiled at us, slightly sadly, and I assumed they'd all discovered the break up.

"You sure you're going to be alright?" Mr. Argent asked, placing a hand on his daughter's back.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," she muttered weakly, playing with the cuffs of her sweater.

"Don't worry, Mr. Argent," Lydia piped brightly. "We're just going out for a little bit this afternoon and then watching movies from the safety of my own house. We'll call you if anything happens."

"Okay," he nodded in consent, stepping back.

"Come on, now," Kate urged with a grin, wrapping an arm each around Allison and me and ushering us towards the door. "Girls night! Go have fun!" Lydia giggled, and called goodbye to the Argents, tugging Allison over to the car. I threw her bag in the truck and climbed into the backseat so she could ride shotgun. It wasn't until I was settled in the back that it hit me that this was the first time I had been to Allison's house since finding out her family members were all hunters, since finding out that Kate had shot Derek. However, I'd been so focused on Allison, I'd forgotten to look for a difference. They all seemed the same to me, caring people who, while strict and a little enthusiastic about weapons perhaps, truly cared about her daughter and her friends. And with Derek off the radar, hopefully neither of my friends would be in danger for now.

Our afternoon was tightly regimented by Lydia. We went to the mall, where Lydia and I treated Allison and ourselves to a manicure and pedicure, and then decided to window shop. At least, Lydia decided to window shop and was completely oblivious to Allison's disinterest. We let Lydia run around the mall, and I lagged behind with Allison, walking at her pace and keeping up unimportant small talk. Eventually, we did coax her into a store or two, just to try some things on that we had no intention of buying. I managed to coax a smile out of her by trying on a ridiculously frilly and polka dotted dress, which looked terrible by my standards, and absolutely horrendous according to Lydia. After that, shopping turned into dress up, with each of us trying to put together the worst outfit we could possibly imagine, or challenging each other to make good outfits centered around one disgusting article. It was a game that Lydia was very, very good at, and even though Allison and I were only marginally good, it got our minds off school, and Allison's mind off Scott. We did end up making a few purchases, more as recompense to the staff for running rampant in the store than anything else, and by the time we were heading back to the car we were all giggling and chatting as if nothing was wrong. We stopped by the store and each picked out our own ice cream pints. I insisted on Ben and Jerry's, complaining dramatically that it was impossible for me to make jokes about any other brand on a boys-free night—Cherry Garcia for Lydia, Mint Chocolate Cookie for myself, and when Allison couldn't decide, I shoved a pint of Chocolate Therapy at her, deeming it appropriate. We garnered a mountain of other comfort foods as well, everything from chips to cookies. Then we retreated back to the house, immediately changing into comfortable and cute pajamas even though it was only the late afternoon. Lydia and I had laid out a variety of movies for Allison to pick from, stacks upon stacks of DVDs. Mostly they were comedies, with a few action and horror flicks thrown in. All of Lydia's favorite movies were romances, which I'd advised against seeing as we were supposed to be taking Allison's mind off boys.

"Oh please, we're supposed to be taking her mind off _Scott_," Lydia had argued, slamming _He's Just Not That Into You _on the coffee table. "Doesn't mean we can't bond over wanting loads of famous and ridiculously attractive men." Eventually, I had to agree, and I tossed a couple of my own favorite romantic comedies into the growing pile.

Mom and Miss Eleanor made pasta for dinner, the healthiest "comfort food" they could think of, and then pushed us back into the living room to watch more movies, refusing to let us help clean up. Predictably, Allison stayed away from the romance movies, choosing mostly action ones instead. I knew it had to be hard for her, since her relationship with Scott wasn't really lacking everything. The two of them were practically perfect together, and if it hadn't been for Allison's confusion about what had happened at school, they probably would have continued together happily. She didn't need to watch romance movies and dream about finding her perfect man, because she already had that in Scott. Their only problem was the fact that Scott was a werewolf and Allison's family had been trained to kill his kind for several generations. Not that she knew that.

Ultimately however, after three or four movies, our interest began to dwindle. We retreated to my room with a pile of blankets and pillows we could spread out on the floor. Then Lydia took control of the conversation. She had us play stupid games like Truth or Dare and Would You Rather, anything to keep us awake and talking without actually having to move. I tried vigilantly to keep the topic away from the male with gender, but it seemed to be Lydia's favorite topic. Allison didn't seem to mind too much though, so long as we weren't talking about _her_ male. Or, her _ex_ male. I was glad to see she was struggling just a tad less, even if it was an act. The other benefit of not talking about Scott was that we weren't talking about Stiles, and Allison could find no opening to tease me without bringing the conversation into a territory she wasn't herself comfortable with. So while Lydia ranted on about what boys were cute, which ones weren't, and those that whose looks couldn't even save them due to a dreadful attitude—this is where Dylan Peters fell—Allison resorted to casting me meaningful glances, assuming my mind was jumping to the twitchy Stilinski boy.

Unfortunately, I realized, she was completely right. Every time Lydia asked a hypothetical question or posed a situation, I found myself imagining Stiles's mole specked skin, pink lips and golden brown eyes. I remembered how he'd looked at me from under his lashes when we talked about our parents, how his mouth had moved under my hand when I tried to steal his keys, how his arms had felt around me when I bumped into his chest in fear. The images were accompanied by a sort of shaky feeling in my stomach, and while it wasn't necessarily unpleasant, I wasn't sure that I liked it either. The shaking turned into a small lurch when my phone went off the next morning.

Lydia, Allison and I had all drifted off to sleep mid-conversation sometime in the early morning. I woke the next afternoon with my face awkwardly stuffed into my pillow. I lifted my head blearily, noting Allison's absence and Lydia's muffled breathing across from me. I smirked when I saw her, noting for once she didn't look completely perfect. Her sleek curls were splayed in every direction, some lying over her head, some pinned under face and tugging slightly at her skin. Her cheek was mushed into the pillow, her lips puckered and slightly open as she breathed in and out noisily. I snickered, feeling around for my phone and snapping a picture of her for later use. I jumped slightly when the phone went off in my hand, the second alert reminding me I had a text message.

_"Hey Sadie you up yet?"_

My stomach gave a jolt when I realized the text message was from Stiles. I scolded myself as I fumbled to reply.

_"Yeah, sorry. Just woke up. What's up?"_

I stared at the phone in my hands for a few seconds, as if by staring at the screen the response would come faster. I forced myself to put the device down, glancing at the clock to make sure I hadn't texted back obscenely late. I was safe, though. It was just a little past 12:30, meaning he'd only texted me a few minutes prior. My phone finally buzzed next to me, and I controlled myself to slowly pick it up.

_"Haha, morning. How are you?"_

I worked to keep my face impassive as I typed out a reply.

_"Meh, tired. What's up with you?"_

I casually tossed the phone to the side, internally cringing as it made a satisfying thump in my pile of blankets. There was literally no reason I should be so excited he was texting me all of a sudden. And Lydia was asleep, and Allison currently wasn't even in the room, so why was I tossing the phone away from me and pretending I didn't care? I was literally putting on an act for myself. Even my phone seemed to be vibrating in frustration when Stiles responded.

_"Been better. Trying to take care of Scott. He's a wreck. You talk to Allison?"_

As if on cue, Allison shuffled quietly into the room. She forced a smile on her face when she realized I was awake, giving a silent wave, as our third friend was still asleep. She'd already changed into her clothes for the day, a green dress with grey leggings and black flats. Even though she'd already gotten ready for the day and applied makeup, it didn't completely hide the fact that she'd been crying. I wondered just how long she'd been awake.

_"She stayed over last night. Won't talk about it."_

"Morning," I whispered to her after I'd sent the text.

"Hey," she replied quietly. "How are you?" I gave her a pointed look.

"Allison, how are _you_?" Her smile faltered and she turned away from me, moving instead to put her pajamas and toiletries back into her duffel.

"Breakfast?" she asked in a shaky voice. I sighed, running a hand through my hair. It was going to take more than just a girls' night in to get her to open up.

"Sure," I nodded, pushing the covers off me and stretching. I glanced at my phone as it lit up with a new message from Stiles.

_"Scott won't _stop_ talking about it. Probably crashing at his place tonight to distract him."_

I nodded at the message, as if he would actually receive that as a response, before dropping the phone back to my pillow. I tripped over the blankets on my way to the door, only barely recovering my balance so I didn't squish Lydia.

"Should we wake her up?" Allison inquired, gesturing to he still, lightly snoring body. I smirked.

"Nah. She just looks so peaceful and angelic, don't you think?" Allison giggled as a particularly deep breath made a strand of strawberry blonde hair flutter in front of Lydia's mouth. I led the way downstairs, not bothering to change out of my flannel pants and tank top before the breakfast buffet my mom had felt it was necessary to lay out.

We continued mindless chatter over breakfast. I found that while I still felt bad for her because of Scott, it was nice in a way. Allison and I rarely talked about anything other than boys, so despite the reason for the topic change, it was nice to talk about other things for once. Allison talked about all the other places she'd lived because of her dad's job, and told me about the one or two friends she'd made when she managed to stay in one place long enough. We paused to smirk at each other when Lydia finally joined us, completely made up and looking flawless once more in her belted pink and black dress and cardigan, and began scolding me for not changing out of my pajamas.

Allison stayed over for a few more hours before she decided it would be best if she just went home. Lydia and I helped her pack up her things and throw them in the car before driving her home. When we pulled up at her house, I made a snap decision and followed her out of the car, telling Lydia I would be right back. I helped Allison carry her bag back up to her room.

"Thanks for inviting me over," she said as she dropped the bag onto her bed. "I had fun."

"Yeah, anytime," I assured her, noting the slight fakeness in her voice. I sighed, looking around the room. A lot of Allison's things had been put away, as if she was finally accepting the idea that she would be here for a while. My phone felt heavy in my pocket, forcing me to turn back to her. "Hey, Allison," I started, catching her attention. "I know that you don't really want to talk about him, and I hope you know that when you do, I'm here to listen."

"Yeah," she sighed, nodding feebly. "I know."

"But Scott's my friend so…" I trailed off, not really sure how to phrase my question without making it sound like I was attacking her. To my surprise, though, her nod became a little stronger.

"Yeah, it's fine. I get it."

"You do?" I asked, raising my eyebrows a fraction. Allison smiled sadly.

"Sadie, I'd never ask you to stop being friends with him because of me. I just… I don't know how I feel about him right now… So just be careful." I smiled for a moment before hugging her tightly. Allison wrapped her arms around me securely.

I wished for all that I was worth that I could tell her about Scott, tell her everything. They made each other happy, and I was so sure that Allison would be able to accept him if she only knew the truth. But I now felt Stiles's dilemma as he stood in my room with me begging him for answers. It wasn't my secret to tell. Additionally, telling Allison her boyfriend was a werewolf would put her at odds with her family, whether or not she knew they were hunters. I couldn't endanger Scott, no matter how painful seeing he and Allison apart was.

"Besides," Allison sniffled, pulling away from the embrace. "You have to keep talking to Stiles." I groaned, causing her to giggle as I pulled away.

"That's it. I'm outta here," I complained jokingly, throwing my hands up. "I'll talk to you later, Allison." She laughed out a goodbye before I ducked out of her room and jogged back to the Beetle.

Inside, I was still too worked up about what had happened at the school to work on homework. So instead, I locked myself in my room with my mythology books. Today the topic of my research was werewolves' healing powers. I read and reread every passage I could find on the subject, trying to figure out just how much a werewolf had to be injured before the wound became un-healable. I just couldn't believe that Derek was dead. I refused to believe it. I mean, his body had gone missing from the school. Perhaps the Alpha could have taken it away, but why would it have bothered moving the Camaro? But if Derek was alive, why wouldn't he have let us know? It'd been two days. Surely he would have tried to contact us. I thought vaguely of how Scott's plan had made him a wanted fugitive. Yes, that was the reason he hadn't tried to reach us, I decided. Derek wasn't dead.

After hours of reading, however, my head was throbbing. I'd found a handful of statements that supported my assumption, and decided that was enough for now. I closed the books, placing them orderly into a cabinet in my desk where they could hide behind faux-covers out of sight. But even hours of research hadn't gotten me to the point where I could do my homework. Werewolves ran rampant in my head, red eyes chasing me every time I closed my eyes, making it impossible to concentrate on something as mundane as school. I desperately needed a distraction. I longed for the comfort I'd gotten from relaxing with Lydia and Allison, making me feel like I was momentarily normal.

I fiddled with my phone, checking in vain to see if I had any other messages. I opened Stiles's last text, reading over the words in an attempt to draw my mind back into the realm of normal teenage problems. Then I was struck by an idea.

I stood up from my desk, trading my cute camisole for a soft and worn band T-shirt, but staying in my denim skirt, and black leggings and flats. I snatched up my purse and jogged down the hall, checking the time on my phone.

"Hey, Mom?" I asked, popping my head into her office. "Can I have the van?"

"Where are you going?" she asked without looking away from her computer.

"I was gonna grab dinner and hang out with Stiles and Scott." Her head lifted up. Instead of the usual excitement she expressed when I voluntarily brought up the sheriff's son, she looked extremely wary. "Mom? What's wrong?" She shook her head lightly.

"Sorry, it's just…last time I let you hang out with those boys, you ended up trapped in with a serial killer…" I closed my eyes, sighing quietly. I knew that my second dangerous incident with the police had her shaken to the core. Honestly, I was lucky I was even allowed to leave the house for the next month, let alone this weekend.

"Well, I promise we're not studying," I joked weakly. "We're just hanging out at Scott's house. The guys are pretty…shook up from the school thing too." My mother took off her glasses, tossing them on top of one of the many piles of paper and rubbing her eyes.

"How's Scott doing?" she inquired, a hint of worry in her voice. She knew that Allison had come over because of the bad break up, and I knew that she liked the mop haired boy.

"Complete opposite of Allison," I informed her gravely, leaning on the doorframe. "Stiles says he won't stop talking about her. He's just wallowing." My mother sighed, letting her head rest in her hands for a few seconds before peering at me over the top of her glasses.

"You text if you decide to go _anywhere_," she instructed firmly. "Text me when you get there and when you leave to come home." I nodded quickly, standing up to my full height once more. I quickly strode into the room, kissing her on the cheek before jogging back out.

"I love you!" I called over my shoulder.

"Love you too!" she shouted. "Hope Scott feels better!"

With my mom's permission, I grabbed my leather jacket and headed out the door. First, I drove past Toby's Burgers, the closest place I could think of where I could get take out. I felt like a greasier kind of comfort food was in order for the boys, rather than the pasta I'd had with Allison and Lydia. However, since I wasn't sure whether or not the boys had eaten, I ended up getting a bunch of different things: hamburgers, cheeseburgers, a bacon cheese burger for myself, hot wings, boneless wings, soda, milkshakes, fries and of course curly fries. It actually didn't add up to all that much cost wise, and I figured worst come to worst I would be able to try a little bit of everything. Regardless, my several bags of take out earned me a confused look from Mrs. McCall when I caught her on the way out the door.

"Sadie, hi," she greeted, furrowing her eyebrows as I struggled to carry six bags, my own purse, and two drink trays. "You okay there?"

"Yeah, I got it!" I replied brightly, hoisting the bags a little higher. "Stiles and Scott here?" She nodded in reply, walking me back to the porch so I didn't have to try and open the door with my load.

"Yeah, uh, I'm on my way to my shift at the hospital, but the boys are in the living room. You can go on in."

"Thanks, Mrs. McCall," I grinned, shuffling into the entryway. "Hope you have a good shift!"

"Thank you, Sadie," she replied with a small smile, and I got the feeling the gratitude was also directed at my visit. Before I could shrug it off, she shut the door, leaving me alone in the foyer. I followed the sound of voices until I wound up in the McCalls' living room. It was pretty small, and the minimal clutter assured me that it was only lightly used. There was a dusty bookcase on one wall, and a small cabinet holding up the television in the corner. There was a comfortable looking couch and armchair, along with a small coffee table, which was currently covered by a slew of magazines, a few empty root beer bottles, and a wide open pizza box with nothing a but a few grease stains inside. I recognized the back of Stiles's head as he lounged on the couch with his back to me, while Scott sat on the floor on the other side of the table, knees pulled up to his chest. He stopped speaking mid-sentence, raising his eyebrows in surprise when he noticed me standing in the entryway.

"Sadie?"

"Hey!" I cheered brightly, remaining on the edge of the room. Stiles jumped on the coach, flailing slightly and he whirled around to see me standing behind him. "Little help?"

"Sadie!" he cheered, though more in confusion than anything else. "Uh, yeah! Sorry!" Stiles hopped up, rushing over to me to grab half the load of food.

"Sorry," I felt the need to apologize. "I wasn't sure if you guys had eaten."

"You kidding?" Stiles asked as he began to unload some of the bags on the table. "Toby's curly fries?! Oh my God, you're the best." I smirked, smacking his wrist so he'd stop unpacking the contents. Stiles pouted, holding his hands up and collapsing onto the couch.

"What are you doing here?" Scott asked, still unmoved from his seat next to the table.

"Stiles mentioned you guys were hanging out," I replied simply, pushing the fresh food out of the empty pizza box so I could throw it out. "I decided to crash. Is that okay?"

"Uh, yeah," he replied still slightly shocked, watching as I stacked the empty bottles on top of the box and carted away the garbage to the kitchen. I left the bottles on the counter and did my best to stuff the pizza box into the garbage. When I came back into the living room, I was fairly certain a number of the magazines had disappeared from the coffee table. Stiles smiled nervously as I plopped down on the couch next to him, so I chose to ignore the sound of crumpling paper my seat had made. I rolled my eyes, shifting forward on the cushion. It was probably better to not ask.

"Okay, _now_ you can eat," I granted, pulling the bag I was pretty sure had my cheeseburger in it toward me. Stiles cheered obnoxiously next to me, snatching up the bag with the curly fries and a soda so quickly he seemed to be just a whirl of arms. Scott grinned quietly, grabbing his own bag and unwrapping a hamburger. "So," I asked, taking a large gulp of soda. "What were you guys planning on doing?"

"Well," Stiles began through a mouthful of fries. "We planned on stuffing our faces and playing video games until we get carpal tunnel, and having a kick ass guy night full of not talking about girls. Which will now be considerably easier, seeing as we have a girl present."

"Have you talked to Allison?" Scott asked, picking at his burger timidly.

"Never mind," Stiles corrected himself, staring at his best friend in exasperation. I took a huge bite of my bacon cheeseburger as an excuse for not immediately answering. I took my time chewing and washing the bite down with soda, trying to compose a concise and non-revealing answer.

"She slept over last night," I revealed. "But we didn't talk about it."

"She probably hates me," Scott groaned.

"Dude, she doesn't hate you," Stiles assured his, wiping his hands on his jeans.

"Allison's not sure what she's feeling," I told Scott honestly, shoving a stack of napkins into Stiles's chest without looking. "She's just confused. I'm sure you two will work it out."

"You think so?" Scott asked softly. I smiled at him as reassuringly as I could. Allison had worn that same face when we picked her up yesterday. I could see the pain shining clearly in Scott's squinty brow eyes, and suddenly he didn't look like a perky puppy anymore. Now he seemed to resemble a small dog whose tail had just been stepped on, or who'd just jumped out of an ASPCA commercial.

"Yes," I replied firmly. Scott's lips tugged up into a very depressing attempt at a smile.

"Hey!" Stiles praised, pointing at his friend's face. "There we go! Come on, now, video games! Sadie, you ever play Call of Duty?"

"Uh, no. I have never played Call of Duty," I replied, chomping on my burger. Stiles smirked.

"Eh, we'll go easy on you. You just so happen to be friends with the best COD player in Beacon Hills."

"I'm sure," I muttered as Stiles strode over to the television to set up the game.

"Hm?" he hummed questioningly, glancing over his shoulder at me as he bent down to plug in the console.

"Nothing!" I grinned brightly. Stiles shrugged, turning back to his work, and Scott snickered next to me. I grinned at him. Well, if underhanded jabs at Stiles that only Scott could hear was all it took to get him to smile, then that was what I was going to have to do.

To his credit, though, Stiles _was_ very good. He tried his best to teach me which buttons did what on the controller, and would sometimes call out advice mid-fight. Unfortunately, not being an experienced gamer, that usually caused me to freeze up, fumbling as I tried to remember which button was for what action. Basically, I ended up running around and smashing buttons for the first hour or so, much to Stiles's annoyance. His long fingers danced over his own controller, shooting down opponent after opponent. The one upside was that Scott seemed to find Stiles and I screeching at each other very amusing. After a couple rounds where I completely humiliated myself, Scott came to sit between us, calmly giving me a few beginners' pointers that I could actually understand. After that, things definitely began to look up.

"No!" Stiles screeched as I made another shot. "Stop doing that!"

"What?" I asked, jamming my fingers on the controller. "Isn't that what I'm supposed to do?"

"Yes!" Scott laughed.

"No!" Stiles replied at the same time. "Stop winning!" Eventually he threw the controller down, rubbing his hands down his face.

"Oh my God!" I cheered, dropping my own controller. "I did it! Look at that! Ha!" Scott laughed holding up a hand to bump fists. I grinned, instead tackling him into a hug so he collided sideway with Stiles. The pale boy glared at us as we laughed, crossing his arms and pouting.

"No way," he said adamantly, shaking his head.

"Sorry, Stiles," I apologized lightly, sitting up and picking at the surviving curly fries. "Scott's just a better teacher than you."

"Beginner's luck," he glared, lip curling. I rolled my eyes.

"Oh come on, don't be a sore loser, Stilinski," I scolded. "You wanna play something easier? Like Mario Kart?" Scott laughed, "ooh"ing at my teasing attitude. But Stiles's face was set. He quickly stood up, ripping off the button down he had layered over his T-shirt.

"No, you know what? You're on, Bennet! I'm gonna kick your ass!" I laughed loudly, smirking as Stiles rushed to switch gaming consoles and got himself tangled in the cords.

"Nuh uh," I replied, shaking my head and leaning back on the coach. "You're on my turf now, dumbass."

"Just keep talking, Sadie," he replied tensely, his back turned to me as he wrenched the game disc out of its case. "I'm gonna wipe that stupid smirk right off your stupid face."

"I'd like to see you try," I baited, proudly displaying my stupid smirk at full power. It only faltered when I noticed Scott glancing at me with a smirk of his own. I raised an eyebrow challengingly, but he only held up his hands, shaking his head and turning watch as Stiles violently smashed buttons to set up a race.

Just as I predicted, Mario Kart was my game, and I completely destroyed both Stiles and Scott. Maybe that wasn't exactly the coolest thing to be proud of, but for all the frustration Stiles was clearly going through, it was completely worth it. He threw a tantrum like a petulant child every time I placed higher than him, regardless of where Scott placed. I was extremely entertained, and Scott seemed to be pretty amused as well. After forcing us to play through every track at least twice, Stiles eventually gave up, declaring that Mario Kart was stupid anyway and we should just play something else. He calmed down when he managed to find a game I was truly and irreversibly terrible at. I simply rolled my eyes, content with my current number of victories. I let him and Scott verse each other on some other violent, two-player game while I tried to clean up the garbage we'd left behind from the take out. After that, we rotated for a while, taking turns versing each other. Scott did try and go easy on me, but every match between Stiles and I was over pretty quickly. He beat me mercilessly, apparently too afraid of giving me a chance to win again.

"Alright," I said after a while. "It's getting late. I should probably get home." Stiles groaned comically, but paused the game just the same. He and Scott both stood up from the couch. "Thanks for letting me crash the party," I grinned, stepping forward. Stiles stepped up first, casually wrapping his arms around my shoulders and tugging me to his chest. It was extremely brief, but long enough for me to notice how soft his T-shirt was, how he smelled overwhelmingly of the curly fries I had bought him, and how hot my neck had suddenly become.

"Thanks for not being a sore loser," he smirked as he pulled away. I rolled my eyes, playing off the nerves in my stomach. I moved onto Scott, slightly hesitant at his strange smile, but hugging him tightly just the same.

"You know I can hear heartbeats, right?" I'm pretty sure that quiet comment made my heart rate spike again, but I chose to ignore it.

"Yeah, so?" I whispered back. Scott raised his eyebrows, unimpressed by my answer. "I hope you feel better," I added, pulling away before he could make any more dangerous comments. "Okay, so I'll just grab my stuff and go."

"Stuff? What stuff?" Stiles asked, snatching the last bag of take out off the table. I gave him a pointed look as I swung my purse onto my shoulder, noticing the paper bag wasn't empty. "What? You brought these curly fries for the party, so they're staying at the party."

"No," I disagreed, holding out my hand for the bag. "I bought them to eat with you guys, and considering how much of the food you consumed all by yourself, I think it's only fair I take the rest of it home."

"Well, life's not fair," Stiles replied haughtily, holding the bag tightly. I pursed my lips for a moment before smirking.

"You know what? You're right." I walked back over to him, placing my hand firmly on top of the hand he was using to hold the take out, making sure the didn't relax his grip. Stiles peered down at me curiously before I ripped the bag, taking the bottom half full of food and leaving him with nothing but a fist full of paper. Scott laughed loudly behind me, clapping as Stiles's expression changed to one of horror. I tucked the take out to my side, patting him lightly on the cheek. "Night, boys!" And with that I strode out of the house, a confident sway in my hips as I left Stiles and Scott stunned and hysterical respectively.

As promised, I texted my mom before heading home, and after sneaking out the curly fries, I gave her the last bag of food as payment for letting me go out.

The next morning I had to wake up pretty early so that I could do my homework. While I wasn't happy to actually be doing work, it felt nice to do my own for a change. It was the first time since the sling had come off, already five days ago, that I'd been able to completely my own homework without assistance or dictating the answers to my mother. Stiles texted me in the late afternoon, assumedly having just woken up at Scott's.

_"Hey, thanks again for coming over last night."_

I grinned at the completely innocent message. I'd sincerely enjoyed my night with the boys. It was the first and only time we'd hung out just the three of us on non-werewolf business, and in retrospect it'd been a little brash for me to invite myself over. But I was glad I had, in the end.

_"Anytime. How's Scott holding up?"_

Stiles replied as quickly as he could with a particularly long message.

_"Not good. He was okay for a while after you left, but then he got back to thinking. Video games didn't help much. He doesn't seem to find shooting things as therapeutic as most people. Might have to resort to alcohol."_

I paused for a moment, staring at the words of the text. I looked blankly around my room in thought, chewing lightly on my bottom lip as a vague plan began to form in my head.

_"We should both take them out tonight. Like you and Scott and me and Allison. Last ditch attempt before school tomorrow."_

It was a few minutes before he texted me back.

_"Yeah, that was the plan. Probably take Scott out and try and get him drunk later. Know what you're doing with Allison?"_

I rolled my eyes as I read, realizing Stiles hadn't been joking about the alcohol.

_"I have an idea."_

Unfortunately, my idea had to wait until I had finished my homework a few hours later. I paced my room for a little bit after that, still clad in my pajamas and weighing my phone in my hand. But after a couple minutes, I worked up enough determination to dial the number on the phone. I knew that Stiles and Scott probably wouldn't particularly like what I was doing, but this was about Allison.

_"Hello?"_ I jumped slightly at the voice, momentarily wrapped up in my thoughts.

"Oh, uh—hi, Mrs. Argent! This is Sadie Bennet."

_"Oh, hello, Sadie,"_ she replied, in obvious confusion. It probably was slightly concerning, that I was calling the home phone and not Allison's cell phone directly. _"Just a moment. I'll get Allison."_

"Um, actually!" I piped quickly, hoping to catch her before she pulled the phone away from her ear. "Actually I uh…I was wondering if I could talk to Kate…" I was met with a few seconds of silence on the other end of the line.

_"Of course,"_ Mrs. Argent finally replied, though she still sounded slightly unsure. _"Just a moment."_ The silence relapsed, and I chewed lightly on my thumbnail, reminding myself what a good idea this was.

_"Sadie?"_ Kate's voice finally asked from the phone.

"Yeah! Hi, Kate," I answered, attempting to keep my nervousness to a minimum.

_"Hey, sweetie. Is everything okay?"_

"Uh, yeah," I assured her quickly, nodding even though she couldn't see. "Well, I'm okay. I was actually calling to talk to you about Allison."

_"What about her?"_ she asked curiously. I sighed.

"Well, you know how I tried to take her out to get her mind off Scott?"

_"Yeah?"_

"It didn't really seem like it worked all that well," I confessed. "And I was hanging out with the boys yesterday and it got me thinking. I'm not exactly the kind of girl who'd go shopping and watch romance movies if I wanted to take my mind off a bad break up."

_"Trust me, neither am I,"_ Kate laughed. I smiled.

"I don't think Allison is either. So…I was kind of hoping you'd help me get her out of the house to do something more…productive."

_"Hm, what'd you have in mind?"_ she asked, with clear slyness and interest.

"Well, I was thinking about how you were helping Allison and I with archery. I was thinking something along those lines."

_"I really like the way you think, Sadie,"_ Kate complimented, and I could practically feel her beaming through the phone lines. _"I think I got ya covered. Can Allison and I pick you up?"_

"Uh, yeah," I agreed happily. "Thanks, that'd be great."

_"Okay then!"_ she cheered. _"We'll see you in a little bit, Sadie."_

"Okay. Thanks, Kate."

_"Anytime, hun."_

I took a deep breath after I hung up the phone. That had gone a lot better than I was expecting it to, in reality. It wasn't so much that I was nervous about Kate being a hunter. Rather, I felt the usual, paralyzing awkwardness of talking to someone else's relatives, like being abandoned at a birthday party and left to talk to second cousins who are just around the same age. But Kate had again taken me by surprise by being exceptionally easy to talk to. Plus, her eagerness to show off her hunting skills meant I didn't actually have to come out and say, "Hey Kate, would you mind taking Allison and I shooting so she can get over her boyfriend? I think that'd be loads of fun!"

With the outing set and my homework done, I was forced to leave the comfort of my pajamas and actually get ready to go out. I showered and then changed into a casual outfit that would be suitable for athletics. I wore dark skinny jeans, tucked into the tops of the hunting boots I'd bought, very similar to Allison's. Then I threw on a plain red V-neck shirt, and threw on my leather jacket. I let my mother know that I was going out again, this time accompanied by both Allison and her Aunt Kate. The presence of an adult soothed her to the idea of letting me go, though I decided not to mention just where we were going. Apparently, Kate had made the same decision with Allison.

"Hey, look at this girl!" Kate praised as I jogged down the steps and up to her boxy, bright green Kia. "All dressed in leather and ready to kick some ass. That is how you dress to shoot." I giggled as I swung open the back door, sliding into the back seat as Allison was riding shotgun.

"Shoot?" Allison asked. "I thought you told Dad we were going shopping."

"Uh, yeah. That is what I told your dad," Kate replied with a smirk, beginning to pull out of the driveway before I could even reach for my seatbelt. "Because your dad is a buzzkill."

"But I don't have any of my-!" Allison started, but her aunt cut her off.

"I have all your stuff in the back," she assured her. Allison still looked apprehensive. "Allison, babe, come on. It's not like Sadie's gonna tell on us. Sadie," Kate paused, turning to glance over her shoulder at me. "Are you gonna tell her parents we went shooting?"

"Nope!" I agreed brightly, popping the "p" on the end. "We're all good here."

"Great!" Kate agreed in a very similar voice. "Let's go, girls. I wanna shoot something."

Wherever Kate was taking us, it turned out to be a few towns over. She put on the radio on the way, blasting her favorite songs and encouraging us to sing along as loudly as we could. Kate's attitude instantly put Allison in a better mood. Where Lydia and I had to be around her for over an hour before we got her to smile, ten minutes singing with Kate had Allison laughing so hard it looked like she might cry. I knew she thought of her aunt like more of a sister, and I could completely understand why. Sitting in the backseat of Kate's green car, watching her bob her head back and forth to radio with a huge grin, it was hard for me to see her as the coldblooded huntress who'd shot Derek with wolfsbane. I quickly forgot everything about werewolves as we drove farther and farther. We pulled over to stop at a pizza place at some point, where Kate promptly hopped out and was back in less than two minutes with a large pizza, some garlic knots, and soda.

When the car finally stopped, I was slightly confused to see we were parked behind a hair salon in a very empty lot. It was already dark, though it was relatively early, which just made the entire situation creepier. I felt a momentary jolt of panic as I considered the possibility that Kate knew that I was befriending werewolves, and felt like that needed to be fixed with firearms. However, all Kate did was hop out of the car and pop open the trunk. She shoved the food into my arms, and then got Allison to help her with two heavy looking duffel bags that, I could only assume, were packed with weapons. Smirking, she fished out a gold key from her pocket and unlocked the back door to the hair salon. Or at least, that's what I thought it was until the door swung open. Kate's hand glided across the wall inside, flicking on a set of lights that revealed a set of stairs leading straight down. I exchanged a wary glance with Allison, but we both followed her aunt inside anyway. As we walked, Kate flipped more and more lights on, until I recognized she'd brought us to a completely empty recreational shooting range. A smile slowly grew on my face, looking around at all the bows, arrows, and all the other hunting merchandise for sale.

"How…?" I asked, unable to finish the question. I wasn't sure if I wanted to ask how she'd known about this place or how she'd obtained a key. Kate simply smirked.

"I know a guy." She led the way out of the merchandise sector to a large cleared out are behind the shelves. There were rows marked on the ground with ringed targets on the opposite wall at the end of the lanes. Kate dropped her bag on one of the tables on our end of the lane, gesturing for Allison and I to so the same with our loads. Allison's bag clinked loudly when it hit the table, and I carefully slid the pizza boxes on the tabletop next to it. "Alright, nieces first," Kate announced, gesturing to the Allison's bag. My friend pulled out her compound bow, and I watched as Kate got her set up on one of the lanes with a huge supply of arrows, at least three different bows, and various targets to attempt to hit. "Okay! Let the therapy begin!" Kate stood back by me, gesturing for her niece to begin. Allison drew an arrow, pulled the string back, and rapidly suck five arrows into five separate targets as quickly as she could. I laughed in amazed surprise, but Kate and Allison didn't seem as pleased. "Why don't you keep working on that, sweetie?" Kate advised, patting Allison's shoulder. My friend's jaw tightened, nodding her head in determination as she bent to pick up another arrow. "Are you gonna be good out here?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Allison answered, sinking an arrow into the bulls eye of the farthest target.

"Okay," Kate agreed with a grin. "I'm gonna show Sadie around. _You_," she turned around and pointed at me with one long, manicured finger, "follow me." I thought that we would just be walking around the place, but Kate walked back over to the table, hoisting her own huge duffle bag onto her shoulder and leading me to a door on the far side of the room. I remained confused for a moment, but when we entered a huge grin spread over my face. There were lanes here too, with separated booths on our end, and large targets hanging across from us. All of the walls were padded in an effort to keep as much sound as possible inside. Kate closed the door behind us, peeking out the large glass pane to watch Allison shoot a few more arrows. Then she turned back to me. "So I know you seemed pretty interested in archery last time we hung out," she started, dropping her bag on the bench next to me with a loud thud and unzipping it. "But today, I wanted to try something else." From the bag Kate pulled out two standard issue police guns. "I uh, borrowed these from the garage, so you should probably keep it quiet."

"My lips are completely sealed," I giggled, zipping a hand over my lips. Kate smirked.

"Atta girl." She loaded both guns before handing one to me and leading the way over to the nearest lane. "Eh, I'm not really one for safety, but…" She trailed off, donning the goggles and headphones that had been left behind for shooting. I grabbed a pair from the next lane before turning back to her. "Okay, so grip, stance, aim, fire." She spoke the words slowly, showing me each step as she went through the positions in slow motion. She pulled the trigger once, twice, three times, hitting dead center every time. I raised my eyebrows as Kate beamed. "Oh yeah, you're on my turf now, honey." I smiled at the familiar phrase as Kate put a hand on my shoulder, guiding me into her spot. "Okay, now you go."

"That's it?" I asked in slight surprise. "You're just gonna let me shoot?"

"Well, you said your dad taught you," Kate shrugged easily, waving of my concern. "Come on, grip, stance, aim, fire." I closed my eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before I raised the gun and pointed it downrange. I squeezed the trigger, rocking back slightly with the recoil. Three shots later, I was all over the target, completely inconsistent and even missing once all together. I sighed heavily, lowering the firearm and scrunching up my face in disappointment. "Hey, come on," Kate coaxed, resting a hand on his shoulder. "You're out of practice. Come on, concentrate. Try again." Her hand slipped from my shoulder and I closed my eyes once more.

I did try and concentrate. But not on the target at the end of the range. I tried to relax, taking a deep breath as I focused on the feel of the dog tags hanging on my neck. The metal was warm by this point of the day, but if I shifted too much the cold sides could press into my skin. I focused on my father, how he'd taken me to own shooting range at the station, his warm hands on my shoulders, correcting my stance and instructing me how to safely hold the pistol. I thought about how proud he was the first time I shot the center of the target, then the first time I only hit the center of the target. I took another deep breath, opened by eyes, and shot.

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

I grinned as I pulled the earmuffs off, admiring the three holes I'd made around Kate's in the center. Mine were all farther apart, and nowhere near as consistent as hers, but they were all in the center nonetheless. Kate let out a burst of surprised laughter as she rested her arm on my shoulder, observing the damage.

"How many times did you say your dad took you shooting?" she asked with a wide, open-mouthed smile. I smirked.

"A few times," I smirked, shrugging my shoulders. Kate laughed again, wrapping her arm around my shoulders.

"Sadie! Ah, a girl after my own heart!" She pulled the gun from my hand, tugging me back to the bench. "Come here. Try this on for size."

The variety of guns Kate had managed to stuff into the bag of hers was really astounding. She had me try all different sorts, everything from revolvers to a very complex looking hunting rifle. I did my best with all of them, and while I was nowhere near perfect, Kate seemed pretty pleased by my marksmanship. Even at the end of the day though, I still preferred the run of the mill pistol she'd started me with. Allison had wandered in at some point as well to try her hand at firearms. However, after running through a magazine, Kate advised that she stick with archery.

After that, we gathered around the table to eat the pizza Kate had gotten. I was surprised, in a way, to find like I didn't feel like I was intruding. Allison and Kate were family, sure, but I didn't experience the awkward hesitation that usually comes with sitting as an outsider with a friend's family. The three of us chatted and laughed about anything and everything, and Kate was much more adept at avoiding the topic of the male gender than Lydia was. When the topic of boys did roll around, it was actually my fault.

My phone sat was sitting a little away on the table when it started vibrating frantically. I glanced down at the screen, raising my eyebrows but quickly looking away and choosing to ignore it.

"You gonna answer that?" Kate asked, wiping her mouth as she watched my phone inch over the table from the vibrations.

"Nope," I answered simply, taking a huge bite of my slice. Kate shrugged a fraction, and eventually the vibrations died out. Only to start again a minute later. I swallowed thickly, glancing at the bright screen flashing the alert at me.

"You sure you don't want to get that?" Kate asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"No," I said adamantly. "I am not answering. It is a girls' night and I am not answer my phone. No boys." Kate's face went from curious to excitement in half a second flat. She reached for the phone herself, but I snatched it out of her reach, letting the device shiver in my hand.

"Is that Stiles?" Allison asked quietly. She was smiling softly, though I knew thinking of Stiles made her think of Scott, which was what we were trying to avoid in the first place. "Answer it."

"But-!" I started.

"You heard her!" Kate encouraged with a wolfish grin. "Answer your phone!"

"Sadie, I'm fine, really," Allison assured me. "Talk to Stiles." I looked at her apprehensively for a moment before sighing and giving in. I looked down at the name flashing on my phone and took a deep breath before pressing accept.

"Hello?"

_"Saaaadiiiieee!"_ I immediately cringed at Stiles's too-loud singsong voice. _"Hey! Sadie! We—we were just talking about you, Sadie! How did you know?!"_

"Stiles," I sighed, resting a hand on my forehead and propping my elbow on the table. "You called me."

_"Oh!"_ Stiles laughed hysterically on the line and I smiled tiredly. He was clearly drunk off his face. _"You're right! I did! I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Sadie."_

"It's fine," I replied, smile evident in my voice. "What's up?"

_"The sky!"_ Stiles giggled. _"I'm out here with Scott! Scottay! Ha!"_ I shook my head.

"How drunk are you two?" I asked in resigned amusement. I quickly looked over at Kate, who held up her hands as a promise not to mention that the boys had been drinking. She was watching me intently, like I was some particularly interesting soap opera she was catching up on.

_"Me? Psh, I'm not drunk! I-I-I am completely sober!"_ Stiles hiccupped at the end of his sentence, completely negating his argument. _"And—And Scott! Scott is so, so, so, so, so not drunk! He's—He's like not even tipsy! He had some, but he's like…he's like that guy who…who gets the super strength? And he drinks and drinks but his super metabolism is so far up that he burns up the alcohol and he can't get drunk? The uh…The soldier guy…With the shield…"_

"Captain America?" I asked wearily.

_"Ah! Yes! Thank you, Sadie!"_ Stiles exclaimed from his end. _"I-I love it when you talk comic book. Can you talk more about comic books? That's like, super awesome. I love it."_ I tried to hide my grin. Even though Stiles wouldn't be able to tell that his comment had affected me, Allison and Kate were both watching me like hawks, ready to pounce on the slightest sign of a blush.

"Stiles, why are you calling me?"

_"Right! Why…? Why…Why did I call you?"_ His voice was muffled for a moment, as if he'd pulled the phone away from his mouth. _"Scott, why did I call Sadie?"_ There was a murmured reply in the background, one I couldn't make out but knew was Scott. _"Oh! Right! That's why I called you! I remember now Sadie!"_

"That's great, Stiles," I said patiently. "So why did you call me?"

_"Because we were talking about girls!"_ he replied proudly. _"Girls, right? Like, Scott was talking about Allison, and then I was talking about Lydia! B-Because you know I-I love Lydia! You know? Cause she's so pretty and smart and sassy!"_

"Yeah, Stiles, I know," I offered in slight annoyance, trying to ignore the way his statement had made my stomach tighten slightly.

_"Ow!"_ Stiles squealed, and I was confused for a moment until I heard him hiss Scott's name reproachfully. _"Shh! Yeah! So I was talking about Lydia, and then I started talking about you!"_ My stomach suddenly didn't feel like it was tightening, rather like the air had been squeezed out completely, leaving my stomach as squashed as it could be. I froze.

"Oh?" I asked quietly. Allison raised her eyebrows next to me.

_"Yeah! Cause you're Lydia's best friend and you're amazing! And then Scott—Scott came up with this—this incredible idea!"_

"And what's that?" I asked, already damning Scott to an eternity in hell in my mind.

_"Let's go to formal together!"_ My jaw immediately went slack. Allison and Kate were both staring at me in anticipation, and it took Allison smacking my arm to shake me back out it.

"S-Stiles, you're drunk," I commented again.

_"Nooo!"_ he whined. _"And even if I was, it was Scott's idea so you know it's a good idea, and he's sober!"_

"Wow that's comforting," I commented, rolling my eyes. "Cause the plans you and Scott come up with when you're both sober are _great_." Stiles laughed loudly.

_"Sadie!"_ he sang again. _"Pleeeease be my date? We—We can take my Jeep and I'll get you flowers and I'll let you make me wear one of those things that match your dress or something and it will be lots and lots and lots of fun!"_ I took a shaky breath, but Stiles went on at my hesitation. _"Come on, Sadie! We'd be like the coolest couple there! We're friends so you have to!"_

"Friends?" I repeated, simultaneously relieved and disappointed for some reason.

_"Yeah!"_ he cheered. _"You and Scott are like my best friends! And I'm not going with Scott, and I can't go with Lydia, so I wanna go with my other favorite girl in the universe!"_

"Well that was certainly charming," I shot sarcastically. Kate and Allison exchanged looks.

_"Please, please, please, please, please, please,"_ Stiles begged continuously. He probably would've gone on if I hadn't cut him off.

"Alright! Fine!"

_"Yes!"_ Stiles exclaimed drunkenly, and I had to pull the phone away from my ear momentarily because the sound was so loud. _"Wait, no! You have to say it!"_

"What? Yes?"

_"Repeat after me!"_ he demanded properly. _"I, Sadie Bennet…"_

"No! Stiles, I'm not gonna-," I began to protest.

_"I, Sadie Bennet!"_ he repeated forcefully. I rolled my eyes, dropping my head into my hand.

"I, Sadie Bennet," I grumbled, causing both Allison and Kate to lean forward in interest.

_"Promise the amazing Stiles Stilinski…"_

"Stiles!"

_"Sadie!"_ he mocked, and I groaned.

"Promise the amazing Stiles Stilinski…"

_"That I will be his date to the winter formal."_ I glanced apprehensively between Allison sitting attentively at my side and her aunt sitting across from us.

"That I will be his date to the winter formal," I repeated quietly. Allison clapped a hand over her mouth, and Kate's jaw dropped into a wide smile.

_"Wooh!"_ Stiles cheered. _"I have a date to formal!"_

"Will that be all?" I asked politely. Stiles giggled into the phone.

_"Yes. Thank you, Sadie!" _

"Whatever. Please go sleep off all that alcohol now."

_"Yes ma'am!" _he tried to say sharply, but I could hear the waver in his voice as he attempted to suppress another hiccup. _"Buh-bye, Bennet!"_

"Yeah," I replied, rolling my eyes but smiling. "Later, Stilinski." I quickly hung up the phone, slipping it into my pocket. I turned back to eating my pizza, hoping that maybe if I pretended the whole thing had never happened, Allison and Kate would leave it alone. Of course, I was wishing completely in vain.

"Oh my God!" Allison freaked, beaming despite her own circumstances. "Sadie!"

"Yes?" I asked calmly. Allison flapped her hands in front of her in excitement.

"You're taking Stiles to formal!"

"Actually, he'll be taking me," I replied coolly. "He's the one with a car." Allison glared playfully, crossing her arms on the table and squinting so she could inspect the blush rising up from my neck.

"I knew you totally liked him. And he likes you! Ah!"

"Didn't you hear?" I reminded her, trying to keep the annoyance out of my tone. "We're going as friends. He's only taking me because he thinks he doesn't have a shot with Lydia."

"And because he subconsciously realizes that you're like a thousand times better for him than Lydia," Allison added firmly. I rolled my eyes.

"We're friends, Allison."

"Wait," Kate intervened, waving her hands. "Not that I'm not incredibly excited about this, but can we back track? Is this the guy Sadie's in denial about?"

"Yes!" Allison informed her.

"No!" I shouted simultaneously. Allison giggled while Kate smirked.

"Okay, details now, missy," she demanded, leaning forward on the table. "Or you can walk home." I heaved a huge and resigned sigh as I looked between the two expectant faces.

The rest of the time I spent with Kate and Allison was spent talking about Stiles. From the time I hung up the phone to the second they dropped me back at my house—and even a little after that, as Allison texted me—the two asked me question after question about our relationship. No. Our friendship. I had to tell them the entire story of what had happened between Stiles and me. Well, almost the entire story. In the end, I decided it would be best to leave out the part about the werewolves…

* * *

**A/N: Whoop! There it is! Haha. This chapter is getting put up early because there is construction going on right now that woke me up, and I'm pretty pissed off about it. But hopefully you are not pissed off, because Sadles! This chapter was loads of fun to write, and I'm pretty pleased with the way it turned out. In case you were wondering, Toby's Burgers is actually the name of the place Stiles and his father got their burgers in episode 5. I got a little crazy and did some photo manipulation to get the name off the reflection of the windshield...just in case you didn't know how seriously I take this story...**

**Immense thanks to all of you who read, followed, favorited, and reviewed last chapter! I'm not sure how many of you actually meant it when you said you cried, but apparently a lot of you did? I am so, so touched! So thank you to realityalways-getsintheway, xxxxninaxxxx, Kelly1432, Lojo2014o, ScornedxRose, Isaac fan (I know you asked for some intervening Scott! Hope you like it!), BananasGoneCrazy42, becca1130, bbymojo, CypherToorima, vanillaclouds101, LifeToDeath, LynZann, GetsueiNoYume, KageNoUta27, Ashley, Tame The Ghosts and forlornwriter!**

**Thank you all again for reading! Let me know what you think of our latest and greatest plot development!**

**-Brittney**


	19. Chapter 19

Despite all of my predictions, when Monday morning finally rolled around, I was actually pretty ready to return to school. I dressed comfortably in a pair of jeans and knee high boots, with a turquoise V-neck t-shirt and a black wrap sweater. Much to our delight, Miss Eleanor and my mother agreed that Lydia could continue driving us to school so long as we adhered to the new-driver communication rules—text them every time we were leaving one place and every time we arrived safely at another. I was just sending my text to my mom when I recognized the huge red Tahoe pulling up to the front of the school.

"Hey, Sadie," Kate greeted brightly as I jogged up to the passenger door. I grinned, but before I could get out a proper greeting, Allison's head popped up between Kate and her father.

"Sadie, please tell my dad that he has to let me out of the car." I raised my eyebrows, gaping for a moment before I composed my face into a very non-threatening scowl.

"Mr. Argent. You have to let Allison out of the car." I squinted my eyes at him and pouted, making Kate chuckle while Mr. Argent simply shook his head. His eyes gazed past me, taking in the broken window and police escorts guarding the building.

"Kate, what's your opinion on home schooling?" he asked finally. Kate rolled her eyes over to me, making me crack a smile.

"Hm," she hummed as if she were thinking. "Well, you know I'm more of a learning-by-doing kind of girl." She winked, and I thought back to our mini firearms training session the previous night.

"What's your opinion on overprotective dads who keep ruining their daughters' lives?" Allison inquired from the back. Kate grinned, reaching over her brother to unlock the car. Allison gave her father a pointed look before turning back to her aunt. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Kate grinned, winking at me as her niece hopped out of the car. "_You_ stay out of trouble, missy. Good luck with your boy toy."

"Ugh!" I groaned, letting my head drop back as Kate laughed. "It is too early in the morning for this!" Allison giggled, grabbing my arm and tugging me towards to ultra-protected school building. I nodded respectfully at the officer guarding the doors, and received a small, polite smile in return.

"Thanks for taking me out yesterday," Allison smiled as we walked towards my locker. "It was really nice of you to set that up with Kate."

"Hey, my pleasure," I brushed off, exchanging my notebooks and folders. I was still reveling at having the use of both my arms again. "Besides, I think Kate and I get along really well. It was fun."

"Trust me, she thought it was fun too," she laughed, raising her eyebrows slightly. "You'll have to be careful around my house, otherwise you'll end up at the range with her twice a week for boot camp."

"Hey, with what happened the other night?" I laughed dryly, "I'm starting to think that wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing." Allison nodded, smile turning from a genuine one to a simple mask as we moved on to her locker.

"I know, right? It's just… I can't exactly bring my compound bow around everywhere because I'm paranoid but…I never want to feel that…vulnerable again." I nodded in understanding. Actually, I might have experienced the feeling twice as strongly as Allison. When we were locked in the chemistry room, Allison had no idea just how vulnerable we were, that a door and a Molotov cocktail were nowhere near enough protection from what was hunting us. And while I truly believed what I'd told Stiles about us not being useless, that didn't mean we weren't at a disadvantage. Maybe that was one of the reasons I was so hesitant to push Kate away. She knew how to protect herself against the supernatural, even though she was a completely mortal human being. If I could gain a fraction of her experience and use it the right way, maybe I would be able to protect my friends after all.

"How are you holding up?" I asked softly. Allison was visibly lost in her thoughts of school again, if the tormented look on her face was anything to go by. She slowed to a stop, leaning her forehead against her locker.

"I know this is like the last thing I should be thinking about right now, but I can't stop thinking about him," she confessed. I sighed sympathetically, resting a hand on her shoulder. "I just…I've been dreading school all weekend, and I've been freaking out about English all morning. How am I supposed to go in there and just sit behind him like nothing ever happened?" I bit my lip for a moment, watching as she began just slightly to fall apart.

"Don't," I suggested. Allison scoffed.

"Yeah, because last time I skipped it ended really well."

"No, no," I corrected with a wry smile. "I mean sit behind him. You wanna switch seats with me?" Allison slowly raised her head, peering at me through her curtain of dark, wavy hair.

"Would you?" I smirked, shrugging.

"Would I switch seats so I could simultaneously be sitting next to you, Scott and Stiles all at the same time? Wow, you're right, what a horror."

"Oh, shut up," she laughed in nervous relief, and I wrapped an arm around her as we made our way to English. We only paused momentarily outside the door before Allison walked in ahead of me, head held high. I gave Scott a firm look that clearly read, _"Do not try to talk to her"_ as she passed. He watched her go forlornly, and I could almost see his spirit breaking when he noticed she'd skipped the seat behind him. I rested my hand on his shoulder as I passed, laying my books down in Allison's usual seat.

"Morning," I greeted bracingly. Scott hardly nodded his head, and my smile faltered. So I did the only thing I knew had a chance of cheering him up. I targeted Stiles. "Good morning, starshine! The Earth says hello!" I said loudly in a high, singsong voice, leaning across the aisle and over Stiles's desk. He groaned, tightening his arms over his head, his face pressed flat into the desk as he tried to block out all light and sound to no avail.

"Oh God, I hate you," he mumbled, making me smirk.

"Nah, I think that's just you redirecting the self-hate you're harboring for getting shitfaced on a school night." Stiles raised his head ever so slowly, glaring at me over the sleeve of his button down shirt. His eyes were hardly open, only confirming my suspicions that he was still nursing a hangover.

"No. I'm pretty sure it's you." Before I could make a witty reply, he dropped his head back onto his arms. Deciding to let him attempt to recover, I turned my attention to the other half-dead teenage boy in front of me.

"How are you?" I asked Scott quietly, glad that I didn't have to worry about whether or not he could hear me. "You know, considering…"

"You mean considering my girlfriend can't even look at me?" he replied snappily. I pursed my lips sadly.

"No, I know you must feel terrible on that subject. I meant because of what today is."

"Monday?" Scott asked, caught somewhere between boredom and despair.

"The full moon," I corrected softly. Scott slid down in his chair, turning his head just slightly to the left so he could talk to me over his shoulder.

"Honestly everything about me feels like shit right now. When I figure out if it's because of Allison, trauma from trying to kill my friends, or because I'm a freaking werewolf, I'll let you know." I only recoiled slightly, but after that I decided to leave Scott to his thoughts. He wouldn't be in control of himself today, I knew, so pushing him to the edge of anger or any other particularly strong emotion would not have good consequences.

I spent most of my classes reviewing notes rather than chatting or listening to the teachers. There was a massive test that, despite our best arguments and efforts, was not being postponed due to the school's short, tragedy-induced recess. As I'd spent most of the last week either studying or confronting werewolves or trying to mend the broken hearts of my two good friends, there hadn't been a lot of studying happening. I scrambled to reread as much of my notes as I could, and when the test finally rolled around, I felt fairly confident that I knew the material. I walked into the testing room while it was still fairly empty, nodding to Allison, who was also looking over her notes, and dropping my bag next to the desk behind her.

"Hey, Stiles," I greeted, noticing him sitting in the next row, one tier of desks back. His notes were open in front of him, but I could tell by the way he was bouncing his knee that he wasn't really absorbing any of the information, just letting his eyes move over the words. He looked up at my words, eyes significantly more open than they had been that morning. "You look about a thousand times better than you did this morning. Got your BAC under control yet?"

"Oh ha, ha," he laughed, glaring at me. "Are you done yet?" I pretended to ponder that for a moment.

"You realize that executing that plan the night before this exam was like the stupidest thing ever, right?"

"Trust me, Sadie," he replied, gesturing to the mess of loose-leaf paper in front of him, "I realize that."

"Then yeah, I'm done." I glanced at my desk for a moment, knowing that I should probably leave the conversation at that and take some time to study. Instead, I strode over to Stiles's desk, squatting down next to him and resting my head in my arms on his desk. "So, we got a plan for tonight?"

"Lock Scott up," Stiles said simply, also foregoing the appearance of studying. "I got some stuff that should keep him down. Then I guess just try and keep him in the house."

"Gonna need a hand?" I asked, raising my eyebrows to clarify that I was in fact invited to the full moon party.

"If your up for it I might even need both hands," he replied, completely serious. I smirked.

"Miss Bennet!" I looked up to the front to see Mr. Harris with his hands on his hips, stack of test papers clenched in them tightly. I'd noticed he still seemed annoyed by my presence, as if the act of defiance that had earned me detention was still grating at his nerves a week later. "Unless you intend to take this exam while sharing a desk with Mr. Stilinski, I suggest that you return to your own seat immediately." I thought of about four different comebacks about sharing the desk with Stiles, but kept my mouth closed for fear of detention. I sent Stiles an apologetic grin.

"Count me in," I said, before tapping the desk and returning to my own seat. Mr. Harris dropped the test onto my desk with a pointed look, and I looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes as I uncapped my pen to fill out the information on the front.

"Allison." I looked up once more to find Scott standing in front of Allison's desk in front of me. I tensed, opening my mouth to call him away, but Mr. Harris beat me to it.

"Mr. McCall, please take a seat." Scott looked up, then back at Allison longingly for a second before reluctantly trudging to the desk next to me. I sent him a bracing smile, but that was all there was time for before Mr. Harris began proctoring the exam. "You have forty-five minutes to complete the test. Twenty-five percent of your grade can be earned right now simply by writing your name on the cover of the blue book. However, as happens every year, one of you will inexplicably fail to put your name on the cover, and I'll be left yet again questioning my decision to ever become a teacher." I rolled my eyes, leaning back unceremoniously in my chair and embellishing the name I'd already written on my test. "So, let's get the disappointment over with. Begin."

There was a flurry of papers as the class flipped open to the first page of the exam. I took a deep breath before settling in, drawing small graphs in the margins and circling answers as quickly as I could. I was already on the second page when Scott sprung out of his desk, snatching up his backpack and running out the door. Everyone in the classroom looked up, and I shared a frightened look with Stiles. Silently, he held up a hand, warning me to stay in my seat before he ran out after him. I twitched uncomfortably in my seat as Mr. Harris yelled after them, itching to forgo the test and sprint into the hallway. A strict look from the irate teacher kept me in my chair, and reluctantly, I turned back to the paper in front of me, suddenly reminded once more how pointless schoolwork could seem when one of your friends was a werewolf.

After the disturbance caused by my two friends, it was difficult to focus. Regardless, I finished the test as fast as I could, and when the lunch bell rang, I sprinted to meet up with Scott and Stiles. I only found the latter.

"What the hell happened?" I demanded, sprinting up to Stiles outside of the cafeteria. He sighed heavily, adjusting his hands on his backpack straps.

"Full moon's got his senses heightened. He freaked out, started having a panic attack about Allison."

"Is he alright?" I asked, though it was clear from Stiles's calm demeanor that everything must be fine.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Tricked him into thinking he was having an asthma attack, gave him his inhaler and he calmed down."

"Hm, irony saves another life," I mused, and Stiles gave a feeble smirk.

"Yeah, well we're gonna have to be saving them tonight. Scott says if we don't lock him up, he thinks he could kill." I nodded in understanding. His emotions would already be on the fritz because of Allison, and with the full moon working on his bloodlust, it wouldn't be that hard for him to slip.

"Where is he now?"

"Eating alone," Stiles answered uneasily, running a hand over his hair. "He kind of wants to be away from human contact and uh, he can't eat in the cafeteria…"

"Because of Allison," I finished, nodding. "Okay, well I need to eat so…" I was about to tug him into the cafeteria so we could talk about our precautionary plans over lunch when a strawberry blonde whirlwind descended on me.

"Sadie! God, there you are. Come on, you are not ditching me at lunch again." Before I could even say goodbye to Stiles, Lydia yanked me into the cafeteria, storming over to the lunch line. "Can you explain to me why you're still talking to them?" she asked snappily, grabbing a tray and forcing another one to my chest.

"Um, because they're my friends?" I offered, raising an eyebrow. Lydia scoffed.

"No, you were being friendly with them because of Allison. Allison is no longer dating Scott, therefore your responsibility as their friend is over." I rolled my eyes.

"Lyd, I started talking to them because of Allison, but Stiles and Scott are actually my friends too. Allison already told me she doesn't mind."

"Well, I mind," Lydia retorted. "I mean, I get Scott, but I have no idea what you see in the twitchy one."

"His name is Stiles, Lydia," I sighed, grabbing a water bottle from the end of the line. "You've been going to school together for ages."

"What does that matter?" she asked. She stopped short on her way to sit with Allison, recognizing the black leather jacket and carefully quaffed hair of her boyfriend sitting down next to her. Lydia pursed her lips. "Come on, let's sit over here."

"Um, okay?" I followed her to a completely new, empty table, closer to the door. She forced me down with my back to the couple, sitting across from me so she could carry on the conversation and watch them at the same time. "Is there a reason we're not sitting with Allison and Jackson?" I asked.

"Jackson's been acting weird," Lydia confided, glancing back between my concerned face and her problematic boyfriend. "Jumpy, snarky…and he's been talking to Allison a lot."

"Okay? Maybe because they're friends?" I suggested. Lydia gave me a pointed look.

"I don't mean just talking. Like, concerned, emotional talking. Ever since Wednesday night." I raised an eyebrow. Jackson being concerned and emotional was definitely something to worry about. I'd only seen that side of him once or twice, and as far as I could tell, Lydia was beginning to see it less and less. If he was suddenly opening up to Allison…

I glanced behind me, watching as Jackson ran a thumb over Allison's lower lip. I narrowed my eyes, immediately whirling around back to my best friend, who was staring at them intently. Her eyes were narrowed in a fierce war glare, but I could see right past it to the hurt just below the surface. I rested my hand on top of hers.

"He's just trying to get a rise out of you," I assured her. "It's not worth it to get upset." Lydia let out a small breath, tearing her eyes away from Jackson.

"Let's talk about something else," she demanded, putting on her perky face once more. "What were you and Stiles talking about?"

"Uh, you know, just plans and whatever," I brushed off. Lydia nearly snorted.

"Plans? Why do you have plans with Stiles Stilinski?"

"Because he's my date to the winter formal," I replied, recalling the drunk call I'd received the night before.

_"What?!"_ Lydia dropped her utensils, and several people in the immediate area turned to look at us curiously. Lydia gaped at me, some mixture of disgust, horror, and excitement. "What do you mean he's your date to the winter formal?!"

"I mean he's taking me to the winter formal?" I replied, Lydia's expression striking fear to my very core.

"Since when is he your date to the winter formal?!"

"Uh, since yesterday," I answered timidly. "He kinda drunk called me." But Lydia wasn't listening.

"You got a date to the winter formal and you didn't tell me?!"

"Lydia, he only asked me like last night. It's still ages away, and it hasn't really come up."

"Last night is more than twelve hours ago!" Lydia reminded me frantically. "What happened to telling your best friend as soon as something interesting happened in your love life?!"

"Lyd, we're just going as friends," I sighed. "It's not an actual date."

"A date is a date, platonic or not," Lydia nearly snarled. "It is part of your love life and I am outraged that it didn't occur to you that this was pertinent information."

"Sorry," I mumbled sheepishly, running a hand through my hair. Lydia considered me for a moment, breathing deeply as she pursed her lips.

"Stiles?!" she finally whined, causing me to smirk. We both glanced over to where Stiles was sitting by himself a few tables away. He happened to look up at the same time, mouth stuffed with fries. He smiled, cheeks packed like a chipmunk as he nodded and waved in our direction. I rolled my eyes with a wide smile, waving back. "Why Stiles of all people? If you were going to go with someone platonically why couldn't it be Matt? Ethan? Thomas? _Literally_ anyone else?"

"Because Stiles asked me first," I said, still smiling down at the table. I rested my chin in my left hand, letting the fingers of my right hand draw abstract patterns on the tabletop. "Besides, he's a lot of fun." I could feel Lydia inspecting me closely.

"You do _not_ like him," she said suddenly, causing me to look up sharply.

"What? No! I said we're going as friends."

"Just because he asked you as friends doesn't mean you have to want to go as friends," she said quickly, and my mouth hung open as I tried to process the words. "Oh my God, Sadie, no. You do not like him."

"Fine! Okay! You're right!" I conceded, holding my hands up in surrender. "I don't like him!"

"Don't lie to me!" Lydia gasped. I gaped at her.

"I'm not lying! Y-You just told me I didn't like him!"

"That's like saying you're not allowed to like him," Lydia explained waving her hand with wide eyes, "which you obviously do."

"Nothing is obvious!" I disputed, and Lydia threw me another disbelieving look. I sighed. "Look, Lyd, even if I did like him, which I do not, Stiles and I aren't getting together. He's great, but in case you haven't noticed, he really, really likes you."

"Everyone likes me," Lydia smirked confidently, as if it should be obvious. "Doesn't stop them from dating each other." I rolled my eyes.

"Trust me, we're not getting together. You have nothing to worry about."

"I have everything to worry about!" Lydia replied shrilly. "Your love life is one hundred and ten percent my business, and while you could do miles better—no—_light-years_ better than Stilinski, I'm happy you finally have something going on in that boring little life of yours." I shook my head with a grin. If only she knew how eventful my life really was.

"Can you please decide if you're happy or upset about this?"

"I'm trying!" she said with a wink. "I'll let you know."

"Sometimes I wonder why I'm friends with you," I shot with a smirk, annoyed but thoroughly amused by her attitude. Lydia beamed.

"You live with me. You have to be."

For the rest of the day, Lydia stuck close to my side. I didn't get a chance to talk to Stiles or Scott during gym, and Lydia, who was in the rest of my classes after that, made sure I didn't talk to them for the rest of the day. It wasn't exactly like she forbid it, but I knew I wouldn't be able to talk to them without her watching me closely and trying to listen to my every word. I received a few curious glances from the boys, but I couldn't risk trying to talk to them about the full moon with Lydia listening in. Even after the final bell rung, my best friend latched me to her side, accompanying me to both of our lockers and then to the hallway outside the locker room.

"Um, what are we doing?" I asked, as Lydia shoved her purse into my hands.

"Going to lacrosse practice, duh," she answered, taking out her compact mirror so she could reapply her lip-gloss.

"I thought you weren't talking to Jackson," I pointed out. She smacked her lips, snapping the mirror closed and snatching her purse back.

"Of course I'm talking to him," she replied. "I just wanted to keep an eye on him at lunch."

"You mean spy on him?" I corrected. She narrowed her eyes.

"Observe his interactions with Allison when I am not around as a third party," she grumbled. I rolled my eyes, though I was extremely sympathetic. I knew how much Lydia loved Jackson, and she was obviously worried he would become interested in another girl. Deep under the surface, I could imagine the insecurities caused by her parents' separation rising up. Jackson was the most popular boy in school, who could have his pick of the girls falling at his feet. Normally that wouldn't have bothered Lydia, but with Jackson so easily opening up to Allison, I suspected Lydia might fear that she suddenly wasn't good enough. Her father had left, so why wouldn't Jackson? I reached out and rubbed her arm gently, knowing better than to voice any of these suspicions, especially on school grounds where everyone thought Lydia was a solid block of Prada-dressed ice. As if to prove my point, Lydia's bottle-blonde acquaintance Evie bounded up to us in that moment.

"Hey, Lydia!" she beamed. "Hey, Sadie."

"Evie, hi!" Lydia plastered on a grin as she turned to the girl, beginning to play with a single curl at the side of her face. I simply smiled in greeting.

"Listen, I know you've probably got loads of better things to do, but can I talk to you about Brian? I'm not sure what to do," Evie asked humbly, as if she was afraid Lydia might stomp her like an ant. If I was being honest, it wasn't that irrational of a fear.

"Oh my God, Evie," Lydia scoffed, rolling her eyes. "If that freakishly tall, chubby, loser boyfriend of yours is causing you this much trouble, you should probably just drop him. You could do so much better." Evie grinned sheepishly, obviously bothered by Lydia's comments about Brian, but too pleased about the compliment to do anything about it. I watched the two girls converse like a tennis match, but lost interest quickly. I found it amusing, and slightly tragic, how so many girls begged Lydia for advice on boys. Obviously they felt that if she could snag Jackson she must be some sort of magical guru of relationships, but it didn't take a whole lot of effort to see just how shaky the relationship between my two friends was becoming. Unfortunately, no one in school seemed to care about it enough to look closely. So long as the valedictorian and the lacrosse captain were still dating, they were content to pretend everything about them was perfect.

"Hey, Lydia." Scott's voice drew me back into the conversation. He was standing across from me, between Lydia and Evie, looking slightly wary in his lacrosse gear. "Can we talk for a second?" One glance from the boy sent Evie skittering away, merely throwing up a hand a nervous smile as a goodbye. Lydia scanned Scott up and down with her eyes, and I didn't miss her smacking her lips again.

"Of course," she agreed coyly, leading him away to an office.

"Uh, Lydia?" I interrupted worriedly, taking a few steps to follow them. Lydia stopped short, rolling her eyes at me.

"It's fine, Sadie. We'll meet you out on the field." I watched with apprehension as she pulled Scott into the office and he closed the door behind him. Before I could think about stopping them or following to eavesdrop on the conversation, the sound of pounding feet caught my attention.

"Sadie! Oh my God, Sadie!" Stiles came awkwardly barreling up to me, duffel bag thumping against his side and lacrosse stick in hand. Like Scott, he was completely padded up for practice, maroon jersey emblazoned with a large white twenty-four on it and a huge smile on his face. "You will never guess what just happened!"

"What?" I asked with a giggle. Stiles beamed.

"They made Scott co-captain!"

"What?" I asked worryingly, pleased for my friend but also very apprehensive about Jackson's reaction.

"I know, it's great, but that's not the important part! I made first line!"

"What?!" I repeated, eyebrows shooting up towards my hairline.

"I know!" He flailed excitedly for a moment. "Well, Biles Bilinski made first line. Pink eye's got a lot of guys out, so it's just a probationary basis, but still! I get to play!"

"Ah! Stiles, that's great!" I attacked him with a hug, making him stumble back a few steps as he laughed, wrapping his free arm around my waist. Moving his arm, however, made the strap of the bag on his shoulder slip, sliding down his arm and swinging the heavy duffel into the back of my legs.

"Thank—shit! Sorry! Wow, no!" I stumbled forward a little at the impact, my legs buckling slightly. I tightened my arms around his neck, and he grabbed me in an attempt to keep me upright. As soon as I'd regained my footing I pulled away, laughing but trying to keep the flush from creeping high enough up my neck that he could see it.

"Well, come on!" I piped quickly, my voice entirely too high for my own liking as I shoved him in the direction of the field. "Let's get you on that field!"

"So," he started, falling into step beside me as he hoisted his bag back on his shoulder. "Why weren't you talking to us today?"

"Sorry," I replied immediately. "It's just that Lydia's been sticking pretty close to me since Wednesday. Didn't want her to overhear any werewolf business." It was at least half true. I didn't feel like explaining to Stiles that I didn't want Lydia to see me talking to him because apparently having a conversation meant I was in love with him.

"Right! Werewolf business!" he chirped with a sharp nod. "So you're in for tonight?"

"Yeah, absolutely. Are we meeting at Scott's house?"

"Yeah, probably around eight thirty? He should start feeling it around nine thirty, but I don't want to take any chances."

"That's probably best," I agreed with a sigh. "Ah, my first full moon."

"Ha, congratulations," Stiles shot sarcastically, though he was still grinning. "At least with you there I'll get a break from Scott trying to kill me."

"Wow," I laughed as we walked across to the bleachers. "Way to throw me to the wolves. Pun intended."

"I wouldn't say 'throw,' exactly," he mused with a grin. "Maybe 'gently nudge towards.'"

"Ouch," I replied, shaking my head. "Not even going to protect me?"

"No, I never said I wasn't going to protect you," he disagreed. "All I'm saying is… Well, ladies first."

"And they say chivalry is dead," I said, narrowing my eyes at him.

"It's nothing personal," Stiles smirked. "I'm his best friend and you're fresh meat, so he'll probably go for you first."

"You being his best friend isn't gonna have anything to do with it," I explained seriously. "During the full moon, Scott's not really Scott. He no longer remembers who he is. He'd kill his best friend if he got in his way." His smile fell.

"I know, Sadie. You know I'm just jok-…" Stiles suddenly stopped walking completely, pausing mid-stride. "Did…Did you just quote Harry Potter at me?"

"Maybe," I smiled innocently, pushing past him. Stiles let out a bark of laughter.

"_That's_ what you're basing your knowledge of werewolves on?"

"There are werewolves in Harry Potter," I defended adamantly. "Besides, you know for a fact I've done plenty of reading in old texts too. I'm just…covering all my bases."

"Yeah, well if you plan on continuing to correct me with movie quotes, I'm gonna _let _Scott attack you." My jaw dropped in indignation.

"Excuse you! Like you don't jump at every chance to make a pop culture reference! Besides, you're more annoying," I disputed, taking a seat on the bench behind him. "I'd eat you first."

"Well, thank you, Bennet. I'm touched," Stiles confessed, rolling his eyes.

"My pleasure, Stilinski." I chuckled as Stiles began to suit up, fixing his elbow pads into a tighter grip. I watched him thoughtfully, chewing on my bottom lip. Part of me wanted to ask about the phone call I'd received the night before. Stiles hadn't brought it up, and I was slightly concerned that he legitimately didn't remember the conversation. But I'd already told Allison and Lydia he was my date. What if, now that he was sober, he'd changed his mind? What if he was horrified and embarrassed by the fact that he'd asked me, and revoked the invitation because he wanted to wait for Lydia? I groaned internally. But I could just sit around and pretend he hadn't asked me. Besides, we were just going as friends, so why would it be awkward to bring it up?

Before I could catch Stiles's attention to ask, Scott walked over to us in silence, plopping down into the seat next to his best friend. Stiles perked up immediately.

"Hey! What happened?" he asked excitedly.

"What?" Scott muttered, attaching the straps on his own elbow pads. Stiles's eyes widened, and my eyebrows rose in confusion.

"What do you mean 'what'?" he asked urgently. "Did you ask her? Did she say anything? Did she say she liked me? Did she _imply_ she liked me?!"

"Yeah," Scott cut him off without looking up. "Yeah, she likes you." Stiles froze, and my eyebrows climbed higher. "In fact, she's totally into you." Stiles jaw dropped into an impossibly large grin, letting out a breath of disbelief. He threw his arms into the air over his head, trying and failing to celebrate his victory silently.

"Woah, woah, woah, wait," I interrupted, waving my hands as a feeling of dread grew in the pit of my stomach. "Who said this?"

"O-Only the only girl I've been in love with f-for my entire life!" Stiles replied rapidly, tripping over his own words.

"Lydia?" I asked incredulously. "Lydia said that?" I watched Scott from behind as he silently nodded his head, Stiles continuing to freak out. "No way."

"I know, right?!" he cheered gleefully, turning to look at me with the happiest expression I'd ever seen him wear.

"No!" I replied, shaking my head. "I mean, we were talking about you at lunch…"

"She was talking about me during lunch?" he asked, eyes sparkling even more than they had before.

"Yes. No!" I corrected myself, wincing and waving my hands. "Stiles, Lydia doesn't like you." However, it seemed the pale boy couldn't be reasoned with.

"She _said_ she didn't like me," he corrected smugly. "But Scotty can hear heartbeats, tell if someone's lying."

"She's my best friend," I argued evenly. "I'd know if she was lying."

"Sadie, it's fine!" Stiles assured me with a wide grin. "I never would have thought she liked me either. But Scott can like, sniff out feelings, smell emotions like desire. Ah! Desire!" Stiles let out a pitiful squeak, as if the conscious thought that Lydia could physically want him was just too much. "Oh my God. Oh my God, Scott, I love you. This is like the best day of my entire life! Wooh!" I narrowed my eyes at the back of Scott's head. He was still completely silent, just nodding as Stiles rambled on about how grateful he was and how amazing it was the Lydia liked him. I thought back to the joke I had made to Stiles about Scott not being himself during the full moon. I knew Lydia. I knew her inside and out, and I knew that there was no way she had feelings for Stiles. Either something way seriously wrong with Scott, or I needed to have an extremely thorough conversation with Lydia about fickle feelings.

Unfortunately, before I could voice my concerns to Stiles, Coach Finstock blew his whistle and the boys were up and on the field, Stiles still grinning like a child on Christmas morning. I looked around the bleachers frantically. I needed to ask Lydia what had really happened. It actually took me several minutes to find her, casually strutting over to the bleachers. She waved when she saw me, promptly trotting over and taking a seat next to me.

"What the hell was that about?" I asked immediately, sounding slightly more vicious than even I had expected. Lydia looked taken aback.

"What was what about?" she asked innocently. I took a deep breath, trying to collect my thoughts.

"What did Scott want to talk to you about?"

"Oh!" she piped with wide eyes. "Uh…he just wanted to talk to me about Allison."

"Allison?" I repeated. "He didn't talk to you about Stiles?"

"No," she answered, rolling her eyes. "He definitely wasn't asking about your hyperactive little weirdo." I didn't even take a moment to roll my eyes at her jab. If Scott hadn't even mentioned Stiles to Lydia, that meant it was definitely a problem with him lying, not my best friend. I turned back to her to ask about what exactly had happened when I noticed it. Lydia's lipstick was slightly smudged along the top left of her mouth and for some reason, even though she usually checked her makeup every few minutes, she hadn't noticed yet. The question caught in my throat as I stared at her, narrowing my eyes. She did a double take when she noticed my gaze. "What?"

"What… What exactly did you tell Scott?" I asked evenly. Lydia raised her perfectly shaped eyebrows.

"Oh, well, uh… He asked if I knew whether or not Allison still liked him, which I totally don't get since he's friends with you, and then I told him that…she obviously still liked him. But I like threatened him to stay away from her," she added quickly, her voice rising slightly. "I mean, he can flash those puppy dog eyes all he wants. I still think he got what he deserved for locking us in there and lying to us about it." I took a shaky breath, smiling in slight disbelief.

"Now look who's lying," I shot, glaring at her.

"What?" she piped quickly. "I'm not lying!"

"Lydia!" I barked, causing her to jump slightly. I closed my eyes, forcing myself to take a deep breath. At the moment, I wasn't sure whom I was angrier with. Lydia for making out with Scott when he'd asked about Allison, or Scott for lying to Stiles about how Lydia felt for him after he'd hooked up with her. While Scott was being a complete and utter asshole, I myself had said he wasn't being himself because of the moon. Lydia, however, was completely in control of her own actions. "God, Lydia!" I burst, managing to keep my voice lower this time. "You—You can't just do shit like that!"

"Like what?" she asked in a high, slightly frightened voice.

"Like make out with Scott when he's upset about Allison!"

"I-," she started to protest, but when she realized just how angry I was, she gave up the act. "Allison dumped him. He's gonna have to get over her eventually."

"Lydia! You know she still likes him!" I retorted. I wanted to screech it at her in frustration, but for the sake of all the innocent bystanders I tried to keep my voice down. "They're confused, but they're both still crazy about each other! And just because Jackson _talks_ to another girl doesn't mean you get to jump her ex-boyfriend to make yourself feel less insecure!" Lydia's jaw dropped.

"I…! I didn't…! I'm not…!" she stammered. I knew it was a low blow to make in public, but I was absolutely seething.

"You can lie to everyone else at this school, Lydia, but you can't lie to me. I know you're worried about Jackson, but you can't just hook up with Scott to make yourself feel better. I mean, for all we know all Jackson has done is talk to Allison and you straight cheat on him with Scott? Just because you need to reassure yourself that you're powerful or something?! That's so…! God! You're so unbelievably selfish sometimes, you know that?!" Lydia's face fell, her mouth still hanging open slightly as my words sunk in.

"I…I'm sorry," she said weakly. I sighed, dropping my head into my hands. Unfortunately, I never got the chance to respond, for at that moment there was a commotion on the field.

Lydia and I looked up quickly, watching as a group of players swarmed toward the goal on our left. I stood up to see what had happened, craning my neck. I heard a couple boys calling out in concern before I caught Danny's name. I jumped over the bottom bench, jogging out to the field and running around the group of players so I could see what was going on.

There was a paramedic leaning over a body in the goal, which I could only assume was Danny. My suspicions were confirmed when the man carefully pulled the helmet off his head, revealing a very dazed and bloody Danny Mahealani. My hand flew over my mouth as Danny groaned, his head falling back onto the cold ground. The doctor pulled out a small pocket light, shining it in his eyes to check for a concussion.

"Is he okay?" Lydia asked, running up between Jackson and me.

"It looks like he just has a bloody nose," her boyfriend sighed, glancing over at our worried faces. However, it seemed that Jackson had noticed the same thing I had, as he stared down at Lydia's mouth.

"What?" she demanded, looking up at him.

"Your lipstick," Jackson replied darkly. Lydia froze, quickly reaching into her bag and pulling out her compact mirror.

"Oh!" She gave a high giggle, glaring at me slightly for not informing her of the tell tale sign earlier. "Wonder how that happened."

"Yeah. I wonder," Jackson growled, his eyes sliding past Lydia to me. I quickly averted my eyes, but in avoiding Jackson's inquisitive glare I saw something much, much worse. Stiles was standing across from us, watching as Lydia snapped her mirror shut and looked defiantly up at her boyfriend, who clearly was not responsible for her post-make-out makeup. His maple brown eyes lost all of their sparkle as he began to put the pieces together. He glanced at me hopelessly, making me wince as I watched him with apprehension and sympathy. But Stiles didn't pay any attention to my compassion. His jaw locked as he turned around, settling his glare on the mop haired boy who was supposed to be his best friend. After a moment of deliberation, I left Lydia's side, running over to Stiles and placing my hands on his shoulders.

"Stiles, it's the full moon," I reminded him. Stiles was shaking his head, mouth slightly agape.

"He…! She…!" I stepped fully in front of him, trying to force him to look at me.

"Stiles, you know Scott would never do it on purpose. He's freaking out because of Allison and because of the full moon…"

"Sadie, stop!" Stiles snapped, glaring down at me and cutting off my very weak argument. "He…He kissed Lydia! Lydia!"

"Stiles, I know," I tried to say soothingly, though my own anger was growing under the surface of the calm demeanor. "But you have to…!"

"No," Stiles cut me off again, his glare returning to Scott as he pushed my arms off his shoulders. "Go home, Sadie. I'll text you later."

"Stiles!" I protested as he walked away, but Coach Finstock's interrupted.

"Okay kids, show's over! Back to practice! Bennet, off the field!" I huffed, glaring at the coach momentarily before storming over to the bleachers, outstripping Lydia and grabbing our things.

"Come on, let's go," I said, shoving her books into her arms.

"What? But Jackson…!"

"Knows that you cheated on him," I finished for her. "You really wanna stick around for that conversation?" Lydia sagged, accepting her books and beginning to walk to the parking lot. I looked over my shoulder just once, watching Stiles shoot a goal as the boys lined up again. The night was going to be stressful enough without the boys fighting again. I sighed, turning forward and walking to the car. I needed to seriously prepare myself for the full moon that night.

* * *

**A/N: Uh oh, drama llama. So, pretty much all that happened in the chapter was Sadie going back and forth between Stiles and Lydia, so hopefully I developed her relationships with both of them, Sadles and Sadia/Lydie, a little more for you, as well as shed some light on the current stance of Stydia. I think the lunch conversation was probably my favorite bit to write here, as wonderful as the Sadles banter is. I just really like Lydia Martin, okay?**

**Onto business! So the last chapter of The Wild Side collected the most views on the day of it's posting so far! Nearly 1.2 K, like wow! Also, it was the first chapter to snag over 20 reviews, so thank you so, so much! They absolutely keep me writing, and I reread lots of them when I'm feeling down or in a writing rut. So thank you to realityalways-getsintheway, LynZann, TameTheGhosts, GetsueiNoYume, wordsh4ker, Seasidh, KageNoUta27, vanillaclouds101, Lojo2014o, Lilida97, DetectiveKateTodd, ScornedxRose, becca1130, LifeIsARayOfSunshine, Isaac fan (I'm glad Sheriff Stilinski would be proud because everyone else kinda thinks I'm insane, haha. And the napkin part is a very interesting favorite! You always comment on things that a lot of people ignore, so I'm always excited to see what you have to say, haha), LifeToDeath, gLeekyandProud, A Weird Production, xxxxninaxxxx, rae-reader1993, CypherToorima, Kelly1432, bbymojo, and forlornwriter! Phew! 24! Ah!**

**Thank you all again for reading, reviewing and your continued support! I look forward to hearing from you about chapter 19!**

**-Brittney**


	20. Chapter 20

I didn't know how much more prepared I could get. Upon returning home, I had stomped up to my room, slamming the door behind me and settling down to get my homework out of the way before sundown. To her credit, Lydia was smart enough to leave me alone for a few hours. She eventually shuffled in as I was finishing my economics assignment, delivering a speech I was fairly certain she had been working on since we'd gotten home. She apologized profusely for her actions. Not so much for the actual kiss, as that apology didn't need to be directed at me, but for letting her selfish side get the better of her in a way that could hurt my friends. She also apologized for lying to me, admitting that she should have known I would know her well enough to know her actual motive for kissing Scott, even if she hadn't realized it herself at the time. After some pretty impressive begging on Lydia's part, I agreed not to tell Allison about what had happened. Lydia swore up and down that kissing Scott had been a one time occurrence, something that Allison didn't need to worry would happen again. I knew that she was being honest, and conceded that Allison didn't need to lose her boyfriend and close friend in the same week.

As if to save what was left of her dignity, Lydia had added, "Besides, he wasn't even that good of a kisser. Not that you would care."

"Why wouldn't I care?" I asked, running a hand through my hair.

"Because you've got the hots for his weirdo best friend," she commented with a smirk. I remained un-amused.

"Get out of my room, Lydia."

"Right."

After I had finally finished all of my school assignments, I moved on to my werewolf assignments. I reread a few marked chapters in my lunar cycle book, trying to get an idea as to what I would be dealing with later that night. I paused my studying to eat with Lydia and our mothers, but after that I went right back to reading. I also reviewed the notes I'd taken to save myself the trouble of reading forty, fifty page chapters. I hadn't been kidding when I told Stiles I was covering my bases. At some point I tried to pack a bag of supplies I may need, but all I ended up throwing into my backpack was my notebook, a textbook, and a half empty box of bandages. Restless, I also decided to change out of my boots and into a pair of black high top Converse. I pulled my hair up, then let it back down again, and then I pulled it up into a high ponytail once more, sliding four more hair ties onto my wrists.

Eight o'clock came and went, and I still hadn't heard from Stiles. I desperately wanted to just hop in the car van and speed to Scott's house by myself, but I couldn't walk into that situation by myself. I called Stiles once or twice, but he didn't pick up. I started to get just a tiny bit worried. When nine thirty rolled around, well past when Stiles predicted Scott would be able to feel the moon's effects, I whipped out my phone to text him.

_"Hey, so I don't want to sound like a nagging girlfriend, but it's pretty dark out and you still haven't texted me."_

I regretted it the moment I pressed send. Why would I compare myself to his girlfriend? Who does that? I threw the phone down onto my desk, collapsing into my desk chair and Googling some werewolf articles to pass the time. Finally, Stiles texted me back.

_"Sorry. I'm fine."_

The very short answer made me worried instantly. My fingers hovered uncertainly over the keys for a moment before replying.

_"Do you still want me to come over?"_

Stiles's one word response came only a few seconds later.

_"Sure."_

I bit my lip as I stared down at the text. Stiles was clearly not in a good place, and it was very likely that he hadn't forgiven Scott for what he'd done. Honestly, I wasn't sure I had forgiven Scott for what he'd done.

_"Do you need anything?"_

I was expecting a very simple, one word, two-letter response, but instead Stiles took me by surprise.

_"Could you pick up a dog bowl on your way over?"_

I nearly did a double take at the message, rereading it twice to make sure I wasn't mistaken.

_"Do I want to know?"_

Then I received my predicted response.

_"No."_

I sighed, agreeing to pick up a dog bowl and receiving a simple _"thanks" _for my effort. Now twice as eager to get to Scott's house, I picked up my measly werewolf-safety bag and jogged down to my mom's office.

"Mom? I'm gonna go hang out with Stiles and Scott for a little bit."

"Isn't it kind of late?" she asked rhetorically, staring at her computer screen.

"Yeah, but uh…Scott's really not doing well, and Stiles isn't sure if he can handle him on his own." My mother tossed down her pen, stretching back in her chair and considering me for a moment.

"You've been hanging out with them a lot lately," she observed. I nodded, chewing on my bottom lip.

"They're a lot of fun. Plus, since Scott and Allison aren't together anymore, I have to spend time with them both individually instead of all together."

"You said he seemed pretty okay when you went over there on Saturday," she mused, drumming her fingers on the table.

"On Saturday? Yeah, but uh…" I glanced at the full moon through the window behind my mother's back, shining brightly in the sky and certainly already affecting Scott. "He's having a uh…rough night…" My mother sighed, nodding slightly in understanding. "So can I go?" I asked quickly.

"Yes, fine," she conceded. "Just try not to be home too late."

"Thank you! Love you!" I blew her a kiss and sprinted down the stairs before she could change her mind.

Within a minute, I'd grabbed the car keys, hopped in the van and sped out of the driveway, anxious to get to Scott's. I picked up Stiles's requested mystery supplies at a pet store in town, before high tailing it over to the McCall residence. I rung the doorbell uncertainly, bouncing on the balls of my feet as I waited for some sort of response. Finally, Stiles swung the door open.

"Delivery!" I grinned, holding up the plain white dog bowl. Stiles gave me a half-hearted smile in return.

"Hey, Sadie, uh come in." He took the dog bowl from my grasp, stepping aside so I could step into the foyer. "Uh, welcome to the night watch," he joked, shutting the door behind me and toying with the bowl as he walked away. I followed him into the kitchen, where he started going through drawers.

"Where's Scott?" I asked hesitantly. Stiles sighed, not looking up at me.

"Handcuffed to the radiator in his room."

"Handcuffed?" I repeated, cocking an eyebrow. "That was your best plan for locking him up?"

"No," he disputed in annoyance, though I hoped it was directed at Scott and not me. "But considering he started acting like an asshole earlier than I thought, it was the best I could do. He didn't even want to be locked up."

"Oh," I replied, nodding awkwardly as Stiles finally found the black Sharpie he was looking for. "Well let's just hope the cuffs hold." I watched in apprehension as Stiles lowered the marker to the dog bowl, beginning to scribble a rough, angular "S." I sighed, realizing what he must be doing. "You do know it's just the full moon, right?" I reminded him weakly.

"Doesn't mean he's not a fucking asshole," Stiles replied smoothly, not looking up from his work. I looked away, licking my lips as I tried to think of a better argument. I couldn't.

"We probably shouldn't leave him alone up there," I pointed out finally, pulling my bag higher onto my shoulder and heading for the stairs. "I'm gonna go check on him."

"Hey, Sadie!" Stiles called me back. I stopped in the doorway. He'd finally looked up from the bowl, leaning his elbows on the counter as he played with the pen in his hands.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for coming," he said simply, pursing his lips slightly and blinking slowly. "Be careful up there."

"I will," I assure him, nodding slightly. Then I backed out of the kitchen completely and jogged up to Scott's room. The door to his bedroom was still open, and I very carefully stuck my head around the corner.

Scott was indeed sitting collapsed on the floor next to his bed. He was still wearing the grey hoodie and leather jacket he had worn to school, though his right wrist was now sporting a shining silver cuff that held him to his radiator. His chest was heaving up and down lightly, his head ducked forward so that all I could see of him was his dark hair.

"Scott?" I called tentatively. He began to raise his head, and for a moment I panicked. What if he was completely wolfed out? It would be the first time I saw his werewolf form, and I was up here all alone because Stiles was doodling moodily on a dog bowl. Thankfully though, Scott was still completely human.

"Hey, Sadie," he greeted, sounding thoroughly exhausted. My lips tugged up into a grin, and I let out a relieved sigh.

"Hey. How's my favorite child of the moon?" Scott glared.

"I'm chained to my freaking radiator during the full moon. How do you think I am?"

"Point taken," I sighed, stepping cautiously into the room.

"Do…Do you think you could let me out for a second?" he asked weakly, attempting to get into a more comfortable position.

"Uh, no," I answered firmly, tossing my backpack onto his bed.

"Sadie, I'm in pain!" he growled, and I raised my eyebrows.

"Look, this may be my first full moon, but I'm not stupid enough to let you out. All it would take would be like a second for you to wolf out, kill me and Stiles, and then however many other people in town. You're staying there." I collapsed onto the edge of his bed without invitation, making sure to remain just out of reach, should Scott freak out. Instead, he let out a piteous whine, collapsing forward onto the floor.

"Stiles hates me," he murmured into the floorboards.

"Kinda," I agreed easily, not about to sugarcoat the rage. "You made out with his dream girl when you were supposed to be asking her if she liked him, and even though you still love Allison. I kinda hate you too."

"But you know it's just the full moon!" he pleaded, looking up at me with those pained puppy dog eyes.

"Doesn't mean you weren't a fucking asshole," I quoted. Scott winced.

"Besides, I thought I'd be doing him a favor!"

"A-A favor?" I repeated incredulously, eyebrows shooting up to my hairline. "Scott, what the hell would Stiles get out of you hooking up with Lydia?!"

"You!" I froze at his answer, jaw hanging slightly slack. "I thought that maybe if he knew Lydia wasn't interested, he'd be able to see how much you like him…" I took a deep, shaky breath.

"No you didn't, Scott."

"What?!" he yelled, and I closed my eyes momentarily.

"If you were trying to… If that's what you were trying to do, you would have told Stiles the truth, not kissed Lydia and then lied about it. You were only thinking about yourself." Scott was silent for a few moments, frozen as his head hung low to the ground again. It was a few minutes before he spoke.

"You know they say people are most honest when they're drunk?" I raised my eyebrows.

"Yeah, so?"

"Stiles," he explained lowly. "He was really drunk when he called to ask you out last night." I bit my lip. I knew what Scott must have been implying, but I wasn't particularly ready to have this conversation when my friend was cuffed to a radiator to keep him from killing people. Before I could divert the conversation, however, he spoke again. "How does it feel to know that I had to beg him?"

"What?" I asked looking down at him and furrowing my brow in confusion. Scott slowly raised his head, and I noticed how dark his eyes seemed in the shadows.

"Even when he was drunk, all he could think about was Lydia. Her hair, her eyes, her smile. He didn't even think of you, I did!" he growled. "How does it feel to know that he didn't even think of you as an option? That I had to convince him to call you, even to ask you out as friends?!"

"Scott…" I whispered, but he just kept going.

"You can just forget everything that's happened!" he yelled. "He's never gonna like you! So get over it!"

"Scott, stop!" I screamed, backing up to the very edge of the bed, biting my lip firmly.

"You're nothing compared to Lydia," he snarled. "Nothing!"

"Sadie!" My head whipped towards the door as footsteps came pounding up the stairs. In a matter of seconds, Stiles skidded into the doorway eyes wide. "Are you okay?!"

"Y-Yeah," I said shakily, glancing apprehensively at Scott, who had ducked his head down again. "Yeah, I'm fine." Stiles noticed the glance, and turned to glare at his best friend.

"Dude, what the hell did Sadie ever do to you?" he demanded. "Now you just have to go around ruining everyone's lives?"

"I'm sorry," Scott groaned, and Stiles shook his head.

"Whatever." He walked farther down the hallway and I heard the water running a few door down, when he returned, he had a half full water bottle. "I brought you some water," he offered, making Scott lift his head slightly. Stiles grinned sadistically, raising the dog bowl I had bought for him, which now had the name "SCOTT" emblazoned on the side in thick black letters. He held it up as he made a big show of pouring the water into the bowl, before placing down in front of his friend with a smug smirk. "Come on, Sadie." Stiles made for the door, only to be smacked in the back by the clattering bowl.

"I'm gonna kill you!" Scott bellowed, knocking the bowl towards him. Stiles froze in the doorway, before he finally snapped wheeling around dangerously.

"You kissed her, Scott!" he spat. "Okay? You kissed Lydia. That's my…! Like, the one girl that I ev-…!" Stiles didn't seem to be able to finish his sentence, glowering down at Scott for all he was worth. "And you know, Sadie keeps reminding me, it's probably just the full moon, you know? He doesn't even know what he's doing, and tomorrow he'll be totally back to normal. He probably won't even remember what a complete _dumbass_ he's been! A son of a bitch, a freaking unbelievable piece of crap friend! Okay? Sadie keeps telling me that, and she's tried to keep me from getting mad at you and keep a level head and then you go and freak out on her for absolutely no damn reason!" Stiles finally stopped ranting, breathing heavily as he tried to recompose himself.

"She kissed me," Scott whispered, slowly raising his head in the same dangerous way he had before he started screaming at me. Stiles's glanced quickly between Scott and I.

"W-What?"

"Lydia," Scott explained with a smirk. "I didn't kiss her. She kissed me." Stiles shook his head slightly, and after a twitchy moment of deliberation, he bolted for the door. I heard his back hit the wall as he leaned outside, staying within earshot but unable to look at Scott any longer. I watched him go with worry, but didn't rise from the bed. But Scott was still taunting him. "She would've done a lot more, too. You shoulda seen the way she had her hands all over me. She would've done anything I wanted. Anything!" Unable to stand it any long, I fumbled for my backpack, ripping open another one of my purchases and chucking one at Scott's head. He yelped, watching the dog treat as it clattered to the floor. He stared at the bone shaped biscuit for a moment in shock, until I pegged him with another one. "What the hell are you doing?!" he screeched.

"If you're going to act like a bitch," I explained calmly, tossing him another treat, "I'm going to treat you like a bitch. Fetch." I threw the next one particularly hard, and it crumbled a bit when it hit him in the chest. Scott roared, and Stiles peeked his head back into the room to see what was happening.

"Sadie, I'm gonna kill you!" Scott bellowed. I squinted one eye closed, aiming the next treat for his face, which I was delighted to find landed in his mouth.

"I said 'fetch' not 'speak,'" I snapped. Scott spat out the biscuit, screaming incoherently as he strained at the handcuffs. Stiles scrambled into the room, grabbing my arm.

"Okay! Okay, that's enough of that!" He tugged me out of the room, slamming Scott's bedroom door shut behind us. He pushed me slightly down the hall before leaning back on the wall next to the door. "What the hell was that?"

"What?" I asked innocently. "You can taunt him with a water bowl, but I'm not allowed to have any fun?"

"Sadie, he could've attacked you!" Stiles argued, and I shrugged.

"And you protected me like you said you would." Stiles stared at me for a few seconds before he finally sighed, sliding his back down the wall until he was sitting on the floor.

"Where did you even get dog treats?" he asked with a small smile. I grinned, lowering myself onto the floor next to him.

"When you asked me to get the dog bowl," I explained. "I figured you needed it for something like this. Thought I'd pick them up, too."

"Why?" Stiles asked simply. I rested my head on the wall, letting it loll to the right so I could look at him.

"Anything for a little solidarity with my formal date." I held my breath for a few seconds, catching my bottom lip between my teeth and chewing on it nervously as I waited for a reaction. I expected him to groan, or to look at me in complete shock and alarm. To my delight, however, he just grinned, running his hands over his hair to grab the back of his neck.

"God, I still can't believe I actually drunk called you," he chuckled. "I am so sorry."

"It's fine," I shrugged with a smirk.

"I hope I didn't say anything too embarrassing."

"Nah, nothing more so than usual," I assured him. "Actually, you did forget who Captain America was. You deserve to be ashamed of that."

"Damn," he groaned. "That—That's pretty bad." We laughed quietly for a few more seconds. I took a deep breath.

"That's it though, to be embarrassed about. Unless, uh…" I trailed off. I had mentioned that we were supposed to be going to formal together, but Stiles had quickly glided past the subject. I still had no answer to my silent question of whether or not he regretted asking me. And after Scott's little speech about how Stiles didn't even think of me as an option, I was now twenty times more apprehensive of the answer.

"What?" he asked, turning his head to look at me curiously. I sighed, running a hand through my hair.

"I mean you don't have to be, but I don't know if you feel weird about asking me to formal," I said in a rush. "Because if you do I—I totally get it. I'm not gonna hold you to a date you made when you were drunk, but…"

"No!" Stiles objected immediately, as soon as he realized what I was asking. "No, I mean…do you not want to?"

"No!" I replied quickly. "I meant what I said, but I mean, I was the sober one."

"I meant what I said too," Stiles said confidently. I threw him a doubtful smile.

"Stiles, do you even remember what you said?"

"Yes!" he defended, before retracting a little. "Okay, kinda. Favorite girl in the universe, right?" I grinned, ducking my head in case my cheeks started to look as warm as they felt. "Okay, so now that we're both sober… Sadie?" I lifted my head, pursing my lips tightly to attempt to look serious. "Will you please go with me to the winter formal?"

"Hm, I kind of already _vowed_ to," I reminded him. He grinned, banging his head against the wall and wincing at the memory. "But yes, I will."

"Good," Stiles nodded, stretching his arms out and resting them on top of his bent knees. "Yeah, I'm really glad I asked you drunk. That's just entirely too nerve-wracking sober, and we're just going as friends."

"And I'd already said yes," I pointed out. Stiles nodded, but his face went slack when another thought occurred to him.

"So what did Scott do?"

"What?" I asked quickly. Stiles jerked his thumb towards the closed bedroom door.

"I heard you scream," he elaborated. "What did he say to you?" I stared at Stiles for a minute in silence. If he'd still agreed to take me when he was sober, even after I gave him an out, then what Scott had been saying couldn't be completely true, right? Or was Stiles just too good of a guy to go back on his word when he'd already agreed to take me? Both seemed pretty likely. Either way, I wasn't about to tell Stiles what Scott had really said. He didn't need to know how I'd been internally freaking out about whether or not we were going to formal together. He didn't need to know about how occasionally I felt so inferior to Lydia I could hardly stand it, which Scott had played on viciously. And he certainly didn't need to know about how everyone around me suddenly seemed to think that I liked him. And so, I lied.

"Um nothing really," I shrugged. "Just stuff about what happened at the school last week."

"I thought we mutually agreed neither of us were useless," said Stiles, elbowing me slightly. My lips barely tugged up into a smile.

"No it's not…it's not that…" I took a deep breath, resting my head on the wall again. "I kind of feel like Derek…like whatever happened to him was my fault."

"Why?" Stiles inquired, looking confused. I ran my fingers through my hair, holding my head as my elbows rested on my knees.

"Because he saved me," I explained quietly. "He knew it was coming, that something was wrong. But his first reaction was to push me out of the way and then… If I hadn't gone with you guys, he might have gotten away."

"Yeah, and then Scott and I would've gotten speared through the back instead," Stiles piped bitterly. I shook my head.

"No. Derek would've helped you guys." Stiles considered me for a moment before sighing and sagging a bit.

"I thought you said you didn't think the guy was dead anyway."

"I didn't," I agreed. "But it's been five days, Stiles. What if something did happen to him?"

"Look," Stiles said reluctantly, clearly not too pleased to be comforting me about Derek Hale of all people. "I'm sure he's fine. And if he's not, that's not your fault. We already know the Alpha didn't want to kill us, and Derek didn't need to step in front of it or whatever to try and save you. But I'm glad he did. Okay?" I lifted my head again, brushing the hair out of my face and nodding slightly.

"Yeah. Okay."

"So," Stiles chirped, drumming his hands on his legs. "What are we gonna do about our furry little friend?" He gestured once more to the bedroom door, which was only slightly muffling the groans Scott was emitting as he tried to pull himself free from the radiator.

"I don't know," I replied, shaking my head. "This is only my first full moon watch. What did you guys do last time?"

"Well, we went to your party, Scott ran home, jumped out his window, got shot by hunters, and I spent the entire night driving around looking for him." I winced.

"Okay. I would prefer not doing that."

"Yeah, let's not," he agreed.

"I mean, I really don't think there's anything we can do but hang out and make sure he doesn't get loose."

"Ugh!" Stiles groaned. "Waiting sucks. Wish we could just ditch him to play videos games."

"Well, I wish that instead of waiting we were having a Marvel marathon," I countered. Stiles grinned.

"I wish we were getting curly fries."

"I wish we had Taco Bell."

Stiles and I kept going back and forth for a while, playing our own game of "What I'd Rather Do than be on Werewolf Watch." Some of them were legitimate wishes, like eating awesome food or watching movies or television shows. And then some of them were along the lines of "I would rather be climbing Mt. Everest," or "I would rather be pushed off Niagra Falls without a barrel." I called Stiles's bluff when he pushed it to "I would rather be locked in the Porsche with Jackson and a rabid Chihuahua," which he promptly agreed was a complete lie. He'd rather sit in the room with Scott completely wolfed out and unrestrained than hang out with Jackson. All the while, Scott was yelling at us from inside his bedroom begging us to set him free. We were able to ignore him for a while, but as it went on, he became harder and harder to ignore. Our grins slipped, and eventually the game crept to a halt, and we sat in silence in the hallway, listening to Scott's pleas and wishing there was something more constructive we could do.

"Stiles, please let me out," Scott begged. "It's the full moon, I swear! You know I wouldn't do any of this on purpose!" Stiles fiddled with his fingers, trying his best to ignore him. "Please, Stiles, let me out. It's starting to hurt. It's not like the first time. It's the full moon. It's Allison breaking up with me." Stiles let his head fall back to lean on the wall, staring straight ahead at the opposite wall, while I watched his fingers weave in and out of each other. "I know…that it's not just taking a break. She broke up with me…and it's killing me… I feel completely hopeless… Just please… Let me out."

"I can't," Stiles muttered softly, shaking his head. I reached over, tentatively resting my hand on his wrist, the pale skin left exposed as the sleeved of his jacket pulled slightly up his arm. Stiles looked down at my hand momentarily, before unclasping his own hands and sliding his left into mine. I gave a reassuring squeeze as Scott began to groan again. But this time, it didn't sound as if he was just trying to get free. The groans quickly escalated to yells, to screams, and I could only imagine that he was beginning to lose control, to shift. Stiles took a deep, shaking breath, relinquishing his hand from mine so he could cover his ears, squeezing his eyes shut and pretending that nothing was wrong. My own face was screwed up in a very similar expression, and I wrapped my right arm around Stiles's shoulders to comfort him, while my left hand held onto my forehead. The screeches seemed to go on and on. Stiles raked his hands down his face in agony.

Suddenly, there was a low growl and the screaming stopped. Stiles and I both froze, heads perking up at the sudden absence of noise. It was as if it took a few seconds to actually process the situation, that the abrupt silence was actually caused by the lack of Scott's screaming. When our brains caught up, Stiles and I looked at each other with deep apprehension.

"Scott, are you okay?" Stiles called out. There was no reply. He held an arm out momentarily over my chest, signaling me to stay put as he got to his feet. "Scott?" Stiles pushed the bedroom door open and stepped inside. When the silence continued, uninterrupted by a surprised or pained yelp, or even a sigh of relief, I realized what must have happened. Stiles cursed under his breath, and I scrambled into a standing position.

"He's not there is he?" I asked, resigned. Stiles sighed.

"Out the window," he explained. "Looks like we'll be driving around all night looking for him anyway." I grabbed my backpack and quickly followed Stiles back down the stairs and to the Jeep. I hopped in the passenger side and a few seconds later we were flying down the street.

"I'm gonna try and call him," I announced, fishing my phone out of my pocket and pulling up Scott's newly enabled phone number.

"What? Why?" Stiles snapped in frustration. "It's not really like he's gonna pause his massacre to chat with us!"

"I know!" I replied. "But maybe the phone ringing will snap him out of it or something. We've gotta try something!" Unfortunately, Stiles was right to assume calling wouldn't help. But I kept dialing anyway. Every time Scott's voicemail kicked in, I immediately hung up, redialing the number again. Stiles swerved on the road slightly, the windows rolled all the way down as he glanced back and forth in the darkness, muttering under his breath and looking for some sign of his best friend. After more than fifteen unsuccessful calls, I paused. "Uh, Stiles?"

"What?"

"What do we do if we do find Scott and he's wolfed out?" I asked nervously. Stiles shook his hand on the steering wheel, rapidly tapping his pinky and thumb repeatedly.

"I don't know," he confessed.

"How are we supposed to stop him?"

"I don't know."

"Okay, do we have any sort of plan whatsoever?" I asked irritably.

"Well, if we happen to find him mid-attack, I'm gonna distract him and you're gonna get the victims to safety."

"I'll consider agreeing to that if you can give me one, good, non-sexist reason for it." Stiles winced.

"Uh, b-because I have more experience dealing with werewolves than you do?" I sighed reluctantly.

"Fine," I agreed, smacking my phone in my hand as I began to dial Scott's number once more. A few more failed attempts later, Stiles smacked me on the shoulder. "Ow!"

"Woah, woah, woah, what is that?" I looked over at his surprised face, almost instantly recognizing the flashing red and blue lights against his skin. My head snapped forward, looking out the window to see the ambulance and police cruiser parked on the side of the road. There were at least six police officers milling around, and as we approached, a sheet-covered gurney was wheeled out of the forest.

"Oh my God," I breathed, hand reaching up to cover my mouth.

"No, no, no, no," Stiles muttered. He quickly slammed on the brakes, and before I could stop him, he jumped out of the Jeep, nearly getting hit by another arriving cop car. "Dad! Dad?!" I scrambled out the passenger side, running around to Stiles, who was being held tightly by one of the officers. "Has anyone seen my dad?" At that moment, Stiles spotted the gurney, body clearly defined under the white sheet. He ripped himself out of the officer's grasp, reaching a hand out with a stunned expression on his face. I grabbed his shoulder, just as the corpse's hand slipped from its cover. I'd expected to see blood, perhaps trailing over pale skin, split by werewolf claws. Instead, my free hand flew over my mouth at the sight of charred skin. The entire limb was mottled black and red, bloodied, blistered, completely shriveled and burned. I shuddered, one thought flying threw my head.

_"Scott didn't do that."_

"Stiles!" We both looked up quickly to our right, where Sheriff Stilinski was hurrying over to us, face slightly red and eyes crinkled as he stared at us in confusion. "Sadie? What are you kids doing here?" Stiles didn't reply. Instead, he leapt forward, pulling his father into a tight, unexplained hug. The sheriff stood shocked for a moment before wrapping his arms around his son, patting him on the back in a blind attempt to console him. He glanced at me curiously over Stiles's shoulder, but I only offered a small smile in return. I knew exactly what Stiles must have been going through in that second, arriving at a crime scene with a body and being uncertain and frightened until he was certain his father was alive and well. I was familiar with the anxiety, and with Scott on the loose, I could only be thankful both Stilinskis were standing in front of me unharmed.

After a few seconds, both pulled away from the hug simultaneously.

"Uh, Dad, hey," Stiles said weakly, and I didn't miss the slight sniffle he tried to hide.

"Yeah, hey," the sheriff replies, placing a hand on his son's shoulder, still slightly shocked by the random display of affection. "Come here." He led us away from the ambulance, allowing the unoccupied officers to do their jobs. "What are you two doing here?"

"We were, uh," Stiles started, running a hand over his hair. "I was just driving Sadie home."

"Sadie doesn't live anywhere around here," Mr. Stilinski replied skeptically, looking back and forth between the two of us.

"I asked him to take the long way," I offered, wrapping my arms around my torso. "We had a lot to talk about."

"Is everything okay?" he asked worriedly, and I nodded.

"Yeah, just a…a rough day at school. Stiles was helping me talk it out."

"Well that's thoughtful," the sheriff commented, narrowing his eyes at his son. "Since when are you thoughtful?"

"What?" Stiles demanded, throwing his arms out. "Excuse me, I'm always thoughtful!"

"No, you're not," his father replied firmly, crossing his arms and looking between us again. "What's going on?"

"Nothing!" Stiles replied, his voice slightly higher than usual with insistence. "Dad, nothing is going on. It was a bad day, Sadie and I both had stuff to get off our chests." Sheriff Stilinski's eyes widened even further.

"Sadie?" he asked, turning to me for confirmation. I nodded adamantly, inching closer to Stiles's side.

"Promise, Sheriff." He studied me for a moment before dropping his eyes, giving a short nod.

"Okay."

"But you, while we're here, what happened?" Stiles chirped.

"Stiles," I growled, and he raised his eyebrows innocently. The sheriff sighed.

"Two bodies found in the middle of the field," he explained tiredly. "Looks like there were probably some lacerations before they were both burned to death in a fire pit."

"Oh God," I muttered again, lifting a hand to cover my mouth.

"When?" Stiles asked, at least having the decency to sound more concerned than interested.

"Probably last night," the sheriff informed us, and I saw Stiles relax slightly. He'd been with Scott last night, so there was no chance this had been him. "A couple of college kids found them and called it in. The field's a pretty popular place for drinkers."

"Wow, really? I absolutely did not know that," Stiles replied quickly. I elbowed him sharply, but the sheriff seemed so used to his son's antics that he hardly noticed our exchange. "Uh, do you know who they are?" Stiles asked. His father fixed him with a hard look.

"I'm on the side of the road with two bodies that were held face first into a pit of fire, Stiles," he pointed out. "You really think anyone's IDed them yet?"

"Ha, right, no," Stiles nodded. "Sorry." Sheriff Stilinski seemed to suppress an eye roll.

"Take Sadie home, Stiles."

"Yes!" he replied, taking a hold of my arm and turning us around. "I will—I will get right on that!"

"Night, Sheriff!" I called as Stiles led me to the car.

"Night, Sadie." I walked around the front of the Jeep, climbing into the passenger seat where Stiles and I remained silently for a few moments.

"At least it wasn't Scott," I offered. Stiles nodded, tapping his thumb against the steering wheel.

"Had to be the Alpha."

"Are you sure?" I asked, raising my eyebrows. "I mean death via fire pit doesn't exactly scream werewolf to me."

"Sadie, this is where I took Scott last night," he explained, jabbing a finger out the window. "Okay? We were here, and I wouldn't be surprised if he was two. We only left because these two big guys showed up and tried to take the Jack, and Scott freaked out on them. And I'm willing to bet those are their bodies." I glanced out the windshield to watch as the second gurney was rolled out of the forest.

"You think he killed them cause they chased you off?"

"I don't know," he admitted with a sigh. "Come on, we've gotta find Scott before this gets any worse." I leaned back in my seat, when suddenly a buzzing reached my ears. I fumbled for my phone, eyes widening when I spotted the caller ID.

"Woah, woah, stop!" I ordered, flinging a hand over Stiles's chest. He froze, ripping his hand off the gearshift. I smashed my finger onto the accept button. "Hello?"

_"Sadie?"_ a voice said weakly from the other end. _"It's Scott."_

"Yeah, I can see that," I snapped. "Where the hell are you?!"

_"I'm in my room,"_ he replied. _"I—I freaked out and tried to attack Allison and Jackson and…"_

"Are they okay?!" I demanded.

_"Yeah, Derek showed up to stop me and…"_

"Derek?!" I repeated, making Stiles's eyes widen.

_"Yeah. Listen, Sadie, I am so, so sorry about…"_

"Scott, stop talking," I cut him off. "Do not even think about moving. We're on our way back now." Without waiting for a response, I ended the call. "Scott's house, now." Stiles floored it, and we went flying back to the McCall residence in a matter of minutes. If we hadn't been so frantic, it might have been funny how Stiles and I seemed to be racing each other into the house. I leaped out of the car first, Stiles ran through the front door first, I made it up the stairs first, and Stiles burst into Scott's room first. I nearly toppled over him with my momentum, as he'd stopped dead a few steps in.

"Dude, what the hell?!" he yelled at Scott, who was sitting still and disheveled on his bed. However, when I noticed that he was completely human, I pushed past Stiles.

"Scott, are you okay?" I asked, dashing to sit next to him on the bed, eyes scanning over his exhausted body.

"Is he okay?!" Stiles yelled. "H-He just wolfed out and ran around the town for God knows how long, and you wanna know if _he's _okay?!"

"He already said Allison and Jackson were fine," I glared, resting a hand on Scott's shoulder. Stiles's eyes widened.

"You attacked Allison and Jackson?!"

"I just sort of honed in on her," Scott confessed quietly. "But when I found her at the parking lot she was in a car with Jackson. And—And I don't know if I was seeing things or something, but I thought they were making out and…"

"Allison would never do that," I assured him, pulling both my hands into my lap. He nodded.

"I know that, but it's like…it's like wolf-me didn't know that," he explained. "And I just sorta freaked. I landed on the roof of the car and I was about to freak out when Derek showed up and knocked me off."

"The guy's still alive?" Stiles demanded, though he seemed almost annoyed at the prospect of his survival. Scott nodded, ignoring his friend's tone.

"He said that me freaking out is exactly what the Alpha wants, for me to lose control. But he managed to pull me out of it, and then he brought me back here." I gave a pointed glare at Stiles, as if Derek bringing Scott safely home was proof that he could be trusted. Stiles just rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Guys…I asked him about a cure…"

"What?" I asked, forgetting about my silent spat and turning to Scott.

"What did he say?" Stiles demanded.

"He's not sure if it will work but…he said I have to kill the Alpha who bit me…" My heart sank, and Stiles threw his arms up in the air.

"You mean the psychotic werewolf who locked six of us in the school, almost got you to slaughter your friends and brutally murdered five other people?" he asked, laughing derisively. "Yeah, good luck with that."

"Five?" Scott asked in concern. "Who else…?"

"We're pretty sure it was the two guys from last night," Stiles explained, crossing his arms over his chest. "Bodies burned to a crisp in the field where we went last night." Scott's head dropped, his chin jutting into his chest. I rested a hand on his back comfortingly.

"Derek said he'd help me," he muttered after a few seconds of silence. "He said if I help him find him, he'd help me kill the Alpha."

"Well that's great!" I exclaimed. "Help him how?"

"He didn't say," Scott replied, lifting his head once more. "But for one, he's on the run from the cops because of us."

"Okay, that was so not anyone's fault!" Stiles argued. "We all thought he was dead!" I glared at him, causing him to throw his hands up once more. "Fine, we almost all thought he was dead! We still don't know if we can trust him!"

"It doesn't matter," I said firmly. "If this is Scott's best way to a cure, that's what we do." Scott nodded, sending me a small smile. But Stiles shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Sadie, in all your reading, have you ever read anywhere that killing an Alpha can cure you?"

"No," I admitted reluctantly. "But a lot of this isn't in books. And there's actually a decent amount of lore for lots of other creatures that says killing the thing that bit you can save you."

"Even Derek doesn't know if it's gonna work!" Stiles burst. "Please, just…just let me do some more research or something first, okay? Don't go running to him right off the bat, okay?"

"Fine," Scott sighed. "But either way we're gonna need his help to stop it."

"Not if I can help it," Stiles replied, and I rolled my eyes and stood up.

"Okay, well it's getting late. If you don't think you're gonna freak out again, I'm gonna head home so my mom doesn't have a heart attack."

"Thanks for coming, Sadie," Scott said, standing up to hug me quickly. "And about what I said…"

"It's fine, Scott," I brushed him off. "I'll see you guys at school tomorrow." Before either of them could say anything else, I picked my bag up once more and jogged down to my Jeep.

Mom was a little annoyed about how late I'd come home, but she let me retreat to my room without too much trouble. I assumed that meant that she hadn't heard about the two bodies that had been found, and frankly, I hoped she never would. She was already apprehensive enough about letting me out of the house to live my life. If she'd found out two more people had turned up dead, I was afraid she might actually lock me in my room, resigned to attending school via webcam.

I threw my book bag down at my desk and left to get ready for bed. The day had just been so emotionally draining, I felt like I way about to pass out. I nearly did when I collapsed on my bed, but my phone buzzing in my bag reminded me that I had to set my alarm. Reluctantly, I dragged myself out from under the covers, padding over to my desk so I could take out my phone, which had one bright new text message from Scott.

_"I'm sorry."_

I sighed, but decided not to answer. Scott taunt about Stiles asking me to formal had actually really shaken me, not only because of our mutual friend with the burnt amber eyes. I wasn't sure if Scott knew, but his comparison of Lydia and me had cut a little deeper than even I had intended. I marked it down to a bad reaction at the end of a really long day, but I knew that I was still struggling with the concept that Lydia Martin was my best friend. Obviously I knew that she had faults, huge ones. But everyone seemed to love and idolize her despite those faults, and love and idolization was not something I had ever received in large amounts from fellow classmates. I knew part of me sill wondered what made the popular kids popular, when in reality Lydia and I were more similar than most people would think. But now I was confronted by that question every day. Why did Lydia get so much attention, and why was that something I had never gotten? I loved her to death, but mentally comparing the two of us to ponder what exactly was supposedly wrong about me had taken a toll on me more than once. Scott had opened that wound back up, and I was eager to go back to sleep so it might close by the time I saw Lydia all made up and pretty the next morning.

I set the alarm on my phone and was about to return to bed when I noticed something else. On my desk, there was a crinkled piece of paper, something that looked like it had been torn from one of my notebooks, but I had definitely not left there. I reached over hesitantly, smoothing the page out. It didn't matter too much though, as the paper was actually slightly torn. Or maybe torn wasn't the right word. Perhaps shredded. There were five long slashes going through the page, scratches that were too large and neat to have been left by any random animal scrambling over my desk in an attempt to escape to the outdoors. My breathing hitched as I caught sight of a word scrawled between the tears. The handwriting was unfamiliar, slightly rough yet somehow looking almost as hesitant as I felt.

_"Sorry."_

My immediate worry was that it had been a sign from the Alpha. But why would the Alpha have snuck into my room to write me an apology? I highly doubted he was suddenly compassionate and regretting smashing me into my best friend's car, or locking me in the school to have my friend rip my throat out. The next obvious choice was Scott, but as fast as he was, I doubted he could have beat me here when I left him behind with Stiles, and he had already texted me his apology. There was no reason to do both. That left only one, surprising candidate.

I lifted the paper closer to my eyes, taking a deep breath as my eyes traced the ink left on the page. I bit my lip, sneaking over to the window and pushing it open. I shivered in the night air, but stuck my head out regardless, holding the note and phone to my chest.

"Derek?" I called in a stage whisper. Unsurprisingly, I received no reply. I chewed lightly on my bottom lip, a chill creeping up the back of my neck. It wasn't necessarily the unpleasant chill they talked about in horror movies, where you feel like you're being watched, but still unsettling enough to make me continue. "I'm just gonna guess that you're still out there somewhere, cause you're kinda a creep like that," I jabbed at the darkness. "Well, uh…I got your note…clearly, and uh…yeah. I still think you're kind of an asshole for not letting us know you were okay for five freaking days. Thank you for your shredded reassurance, but you still suck. Glad you're okay. Now please get out of here before the police show up and I get questioned about any reasons you'd have to stake out my house. Goodnight." I promptly shut the window once more, closing the blinds for good measure. "Jerk," I mumbled, though I suddenly remembered that if Derek was in fact outside, he could probably still hear me.

I stared down at the note for a few more seconds in deliberation, before finally giving it. I neatly folded the page, turning back to my desk and tucking it between the pages of one of my werewolf textbooks. I patted the cover with finality before closing the cabinet and returning to bed.

"Stupid werewolves," I grumbled, before pulling the covers over my head and waiting for sleep to overcome me.

* * *

**A/N: Whee! Well, an emotionally traumatizing new episode, and a (hopefully) emotionally compromising new chapter. Lots of trouble and angst and feelings. But at least the question of the formal has been answered! Huzzah!**

**Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing. I broke 200 reviews, and that's just fantastic! So my eternal gratitude to vanillaclouds101, ScornedxRose, xALFiex, TameTheGhosts, smilesrippedattheseams, xxxxninaxxxx, becca1130, Kelly1432, KageNoUta27, Lojo2014o, CharlotteAHJones, gLeekyandProud, Seasidh, Isaac fan, CypherToorima, Lucy Greenhill, BrainsBeforeBeauty, LynZann, iwill, .3, forlornwriter, and LionHeartMisfit!**

**Warning? The next chapter is fluff. Lots of fluff. Like...LOTS of fluff. I got a tad carried away.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this one, and please let me know what you think!**

**-Brittney**


	21. Chapter 21

I slammed my lunch tray onto the table, collapsing in the seat next to Scott. The boys had finally gotten used to my presence in the cafeteria. Ever since the breakup, Allison had returned to sitting with Lydia and I during lunch. However, as I reminded everyone repeatedly that I refused to take sides, I'd taken to switching tables every other day. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays were booked by Lydia, who demanded that if I was going to be dividing my time she had to receive the majority of it. I had gently pointed out that she already had the majority of my time, seeing as I was living with her, but she had insisted nonetheless. That meant that I only had Tuesdays and Thursdays to spend with Stiles and Scott. Well, besides the time we spent together in class and outside of school. Unfortunately, we had all reluctantly agreed to cut back out our out-of-school escapades for a bit, mostly so my mother wouldn't freak out about me spending so much time out of the house with a killer on the loose and detain me if there was an emergency. Regardless, the time I did spend with the boys continued to be enjoyable.

While they'd acclimated to my new lunch schedule, both boys still jumped at the surprising force of my lunch tray slapping the table. They shared a surprised look, eying my wide grin nervously.

"Uh, hey Sadie," Scott greeted.

"Hey!" I replied, fixing my skirt under myself before digging into my lunch. Scott seemed to shrug my vigor off, returning to his meal. There was a hesitant silence as Stiles watched me from the other side of the table.

"Okay," he broke after a few seconds. "Why are you so smiley?"

"What do you mean?" I asked through a mouth of chicken, raising my eyebrow.

"I mean you're all like…perky," he replied, his nose scrunching up slightly. "And frankly it's starting to freak me out."

"What? Just because you're an angst fest doesn't mean I'm not allowed to be happy," I shot. Stiles huffed.

"I am not an angst fest," he defended. "I'm just a little tired from all of the research I have been doing by myself, because apparently, I am the only person taking this whole search for a cure thing seriously!"

"I've done plenty of research," I replied haughtily. "And we've already got a pretty big clue from Derek."

"Can you not talk about your werewolf boyfriend for like two seconds?" Stiles snarled. He was continually testy about the subject of Derek Hale. I rolled my eyes.

"Please, I haven't heard from Derek at all," I assured him. "If anyone's dating him, it's Scott. He's the only one Derek will talk to anyway." Scott snorted, but didn't reply. At this point, he knew better than to step into the middle of one of our quip-offs.

"Thank God," Stiles groaned. "The last thing I need is that weirdo showing up unannounced, in the middle of the night, creeping outside my window or something."

"Are you sure?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow. "You sound kind of jealous. You're not harboring a fetish for brooding werewolves are you?"

"No, Sadie," he growled. "I am not harboring any sort of fetish involving any sort of werewolf, thank you very much." I smirked at him over the top of my water bottle.

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much." I winked, causing Scott to laugh and Stiles to groan.

"Why are we even friends? God, you're exhausting."

"Well, you better perk up, bucko," I replied, shifting in my chair. "Can't be tired this weekend." Stiles seemed to relax slightly when he realized just what I was referring too, even going so far as to grin slightly. Scott looked up, glancing between the two of us.

"Did I miss something?" he asked with a smirk. "What's this weekend?" Stiles and I both turned to look at him, astonished.

"Do you listen at all when I talk, Scott?" I asked. Scott chuckled sheepishly, shrugging.

"It's Halloween, dumbass," Stiles reminded him, looking like he was restraining himself from throwing something at him.

"Oh, right," Scott nodded in realization. I chose to ignore his lack of enthusiasm, beaming.

"Do you guys know how long I've waited for Halloween to be on a weekend?" I gushed.

"Like four or five years?" Stiles quipped. "That's generally the way years work, you know, rotating days." I glared at him momentarily, before wiping my face of anger, taking a deep breath and holding up my hands.

"I'm not gonna let you ruin this for me, Stiles," I said firmly. "This is my favorite day of the year, and I am not going to let your pissy attitude ruin it."

"Excuse you, I'm a joy to be around," he shot, rolling his eyes. I ignored him.

"So, Lydia's having a Halloween party, unsurprisingly. Obviously she invited Allison, but after hours of begging, I finally convinced her to let me invite you guys too. So you're coming."

"Sure," Scott chirped, perking up slightly. I knew that he didn't really feel like partying, but I'd been counting on his eagerness to see Allison to convince him to come.

"Uh, no," Stiles replied with a smug smile, leaning back in his chair. "Scott and I will not be in attendance."

"Dude," Scott snapped, and I raised my eyebrows in surprise. I hadn't counted on needing to convince Stiles to come to a party hosted by Lydia Martin.

"What?" he defended sharply. "We've got plans, dude!"

"What plans?" I asked. Stiles crossed his arm over his chest, fixing me with a steady gaze.

"Scott and I have Halloween traditions that must be upheld," he replied, formally and firmly.

"Traditions like what?" I pressed.

"Traditions like trick or treating!" he snapped, his head jutting forward a few inches.

"Oh!" I piped, and Scott groaned.

"Dude, we're in the tenth grade!"

"Don't pull the age card on me!" Stiles retorted. "We made a resolution to do it every year until we go to college! It's our thing!"

"We made that promise ages ago, Stiles," Scott commented, but I waved him off.

"No, no, I think that's awesome!" Both boys froze, turning to look at me in shock.

"You think that's awesome?" Scott repeated, his eyebrows disappearing under the fringe of his hair. I nodded, making Stiles laugh.

"Ha! See? Sadie thinks that's awesome."

"But it's not a viable excuse," I added, causing the grin to slide off his face. "Let's just do both!"

"Let's? Let us? Us? No!" Stiles replied, looking indignant. "It's a guy thing! You're not invited!" I pursed my lips, folding my arms on the table and turning to look expectantly at Scott. He smirked.

"Hey, Sadie. You wanna come trick or treating with Stiles and me?"

"Why thank you, Scott!" I chirped in a high voice. "As a passionate supporter of all Halloween traditions, I would love to accompany you and Stiles trick or treating!" I beamed at Stiles, who looked very similar to a toddler whose favorite stuffed animal had just been confiscated.

"You both suck," he grumbled, stabbing a fork through one of his tater tots. I chuckled.

"So, what are you guys gonna be?" I inquired. Stiles instantly dropped his grumpy mood.

"A werewolf," he answered smugly. Scott rolled his eyes.

"Irony," I smirked, point at him with my fork. "I like it." Stiles gave an over-exaggerated shrug, waving off my praise, and I giggled. "What about you, Scott?"

"Uh, I don't know," he confessed. "I might just wear my lacrosse uniform."

"Uh, no," I said firmly, scrunching up my face in disgust. "You already wear that all the time. That's not a costume."

"Um…can I wear it and pretend it's a football uniform?"

"Still no," I snapped.

"Why do you care so much what we're doing?" Stiles asked curiously.

"Because," I explained firmly, "I take extreme pride in costume art of all kinds, and I'm not gonna be seen walking around with two boys in half-assed cop-out costumes! Come on! You're two teenage boys who went hunting in the woods for a body!"

"Half a body, actually," Stiles corrected me. I brandished a finger at him.

"Exactly! Where is your love for the scary, creepy and supernatural?!"

"Sadie," Scott half laughed, glancing around. "I'm a werewolf. I've pretty much had my fill of the scary, creepy and supernatural."

"And the life threatening!" Stiles added frantically. "Don't forget about the threatening of our lives!"

"And nobody else knows that," I pointed out. "So you're going to be a normal, weirdo teenage boy and let me put together a super awesome monster costume." Scott sighed with a smile, giving in.

"Just not a werewolf, okay?" he pleaded, and I grinned victoriously.

"Of course not," I assured him. "Stiles already called werewolf, and there are no repeats allowed."

"Of course not," Scott repeated, chuckling at my enthusiasm.

"Why do you have so many rules?" Stiles complained, though it was fairly obvious he wasn't the slightest bit annoyed.

"I take Halloween very, very seriously," I explained evenly. "Like, very seriously."

However, despite all of my ranting and raving about my favorite holiday that week, the boys still seemed to be surprised on Saturday when they got to experience just _how_ serious I was.

I picked the boys up bright and early at nine thirty, much to the surprise and amusement of Mrs. McCall and Sheriff Stilinski, and the absolute horror of Scott and Stiles. I had convinced them to meet at my house, so I didn't have to lug my supplies around town, but I had neglected to mention just how early I was picking them up. I was forced to coax them out of their beds by bribing them with breakfast. My mom was cooking at home, and the previous night I'd stocked the van with a basket of pumpkin muffins, sprinkled with candy corn on top. Scott had come along quietly, stuffing half a muffin in his mouth before he fell asleep once more in the back seat. Stiles had a little more fight in him. The sheriff had to help me literally drag him to the car, where he continued to mutter violent death threats under his breath all the way to my house.

Thankfully, my mother's cooking was able to shut him up some. She'd laid out a wonderful spread of scrambled eggs, deviled eggs, sausage, bacon, toast, some more muffins, pumpkin pancakes, and a box of Count Chocula breakfast cereal waiting as per my request. Stiles was practically salivating as he sprang at the table, sampling as much as he could. Scott collapsed next to him, resting his head in his arms.

"Oh you poor boys," she laughed, patting Scott on the back. "Was it really necessary to get them up this early?"

"Certainly," I replied, pulling the plate of sausage and bacon away from Stiles and taking a large portion before he could suck it up like some sort of human vacuum cleaner. "I might be able to finish off Scott in under an hour, but Stiles's makeup is definitely gonna take more than that."

"Makeup?!" Stiles demanded, small crumbs flying from his mouth as he tried to yell at me through a mouth of pancake. I glared at him, ignoring the outburst.

"And my makeup is definitely going to take over an hour, which I obviously have to do last."

"What are you being?" Scott mumbled into his arms. I smirked.

"Well, since Stiles threatened to chop my head off about five minutes ago, you don't get to know. It's a surprise." Stiles rolled his eyes and my mother winced.

"Can the decapitation wait until later?" she asked, taking a seat beside me, across from Scott. "I'd prefer not to get blood all over Ellie's house, and I don't want all this food to go to waste."

"Sure thing, Mrs. Bennet," Stiles nodded. "There will be no wasting of food on this side of the table." He served himself another scoop of scrambled eggs and two more pancakes to punctuate his point.

"Thanks a lot, Mrs. Bennet," Scott grinned tiredly, lifting his head and pulling the platter of bacon closer.

"Any time boys," she assured them. "You're gonna need your strength for today. Sadie is a vicious whirlwind of energy on Halloween."

"Really?" Stiles asked, raising his eyebrows. "I hadn't noticed." I kicked him in the shin under the table, causing him to wince, but still smirk proudly.

"The house looks really nice," Scott commented politely, looking around at the orange and black garlands I'd hung around the top of every wall. There were decorative pumpkins stuffed with herbs and plastic bones on several different surfaces, along with bowls of assorted candies, vases of black roses or dead flowers, and cutouts I'd hung along the walls.

"Thank you!" I chirped brightly. My mother rolled her eyes.

"It's been like this all week," she complained in a monotone voice. I glared playfully at her, not so easily brought down.

"There's loads of jack-o-lanterns in the front and back yards too, and I made headstones for fake graves, and there are spider webs on all the bushes. Unfortunately," I paused as my mother shuddered, "I'm not allowed to put up fake spiders. They skeeve mom out."

"I don't need a hundred and one plastic spiders lying in corners around the house after you clean all of this up," she nagged. "_That_ is the truly frightening part of Halloween."

The light chatter continued for the rest of breakfast. Miss Eleanor popped down at some point to grab some food and say hi to the boys. She actually took a plate upstairs for Lydia, who dare not venture downstairs. It seemed Halloween was the one day of the year Lydia would be hiding from my enthusiasm, instead of vice versa.

It took a while, but eventually the bottomless pits that were Stiles and Scott's stomachs seemed to be sated. At least, Scott had stopped eating, and Stiles was slowing down.

"Okay," I announced, standing up from the table. "Time to get this show on the road. Scott, you first."

"Do I really have to go first?" he asked reluctantly.

"Yes," I replied firmly. "Your makeup's gonna be a lot easier than Stiles's is, and he's still stuffing his face."

"Hey!" the pale boy shouted indignantly. I rolled my eyes.

"Shut up and eat your breakfast. There are some Halloween movies in the living room. Mom can set that up or you just pass out on the couch or whatever. Come on, Scott." The floppy haired boy rose grudgingly from his chair, and Stiles's eyes popped wide open.

"W-Wait you're just leaving me down here by myself?!" he hissed. "What am I supposed to do?! What if Lydia comes downstairs?!"

"She won't," I assured him. "She's hiding from me."

"Yeah, but what if she does?!"

"I don't know, Stiles," I sighed, grabbing Scott's arm and dragging him toward the stairs. "Play dead!" Stiles was not exceptionally impressed by that answer but let it be, and Scott chuckled slightly as we jogged up the stairs to my room.

"There a reason we're abandoning him downstairs?" he asked curiously.

"Because he's your best friend," I explained. "He can be funny, but he doesn't shut up. I need you to be completely still while I do your makeup, which means minimal talking and no laughing."

"Sounds like fun," Scott commented sarcastically. I grinned.

"It's nothing personal," I assured him. "I'm exiling you to the living room when I work on Stiles too."

"Right, because you've gotta be alone with him." I would have been willing to pass the comment off if I hadn't caught Scott's smug smirk as we walked into my room. He was clearly all too pleased with his own little joke. I narrowed my eyes.

"Because Stiles can hardly shut his trap as it is, and I don't need him trying to talk to you while I'm trying to paint his face," I corrected.

"Right. Of course," Scott nodded. Instead of trying to defend myself any more, I decided to change the subject. I smiled brightly, running over to my spare closet, currently my costume closet, and pulling out the outfit I'd put together for Scott.

"Tada!" I'd tried to keep the costume as simple as possible, as I knew Scott hadn't really wanted to dress up in the first place. On the hanger hung a pair of black slacks, a white button down shirt and bow tie, a gold medallion, and a long black cape with a high pointed collar. Scott raised his eyebrows.

"And that's…?" The wide grin dropped off my face as I returned to glaring at him.

"Scott, don't be an asshole. I know you know who Dracula is."

"Yeah, sorry," he relented, smirking. However, even when he dropped his act of confusion, I continued to glower at him.

"You're still not laughing." This time, the puzzlement that made Scott raise his eyebrows was real.

"Should I be?" I deflated, letting my hands fall to my sides and causing the cape to drag along the floor.

"In most conceived universes and plot lines, vampires and werewolves are sworn enemies. You're a werewolf, and I'm choosing to dress you up as the most iconic vampire of all time. That's why it's funny." Scott smiled patronizingly, more amused by my enthusiasm than the actual joke. I groaned, letting my head flop forward and moving to hang the clothes up on the closet door and put on some music. "You know what? Fine. My humor's wasted on you anyway. Let's get started."

"Okay, uh, what do you need me to do?" Scott asked, at least ready to cooperate if nothing else. I rolled my desk chair around to the center off the room, and dragged my tower of makeup supplies over. I noticed Scott looked slightly terrified.

"I just need you to sit quietly in that chair and let me do something with your hair."

"But I like my hair," Scott whined, shooting me his best pair of puppy dog eyes, which I ignored.

"So do I, but Dracula would not." Scott released a piteous sigh, making me chuckle as I poured a glop of gel into my palm. "Chill, dude. It's not like I'm shaving your head. I'm just gelling your hair back."

"Gel?" Scott squeaked, as if I had informed him I'd be ducking him head first into tar.

"Yup!" I chirped. And that was the last warning he got before I dumped the glop onto his skull, working the gel through his hair and attempting to slick it back.

While Scott's mop of brown hair was great, it was pretty much a nightmare to work with. He just had so much hair, and it was difficult to get it all slicked back into the normal Dracula hairstyle without putting in so much gel it hardened like a helmet. Eventually though, we managed. Then I moved onto his makeup, which was also slightly tricky. Usually I would have just painted his skin white and gone on shading from there, but Scott was so tan that it would have looked ridiculous. That meant I was blending and blending until I made a color light enough to work as vampire with his skin. I was working on shading, hollowing out his cheeks and making his eyes sink into his head, when he broke his vow of silence.

"Hey, Sadie?"

"Hm?" I hummed in response, mixing some purple powder into the shading mix.

"I'm really sorry about what I said to you the other day." I paused slightly in my movements before hurrying to continue my job.

"I already said it was fine," I brushed him off.

"No, it's not," he replied miserably. "I said really terrible things because of the full moon, and you and Stiles never did anything to deserve it."

"Scott, I know you're sorry," I said firmly, avoiding his gaze by focusing on pushing the powder under his eyebrow. "I get it."

"But I shouldn't have said-!"

"Scott, did you lie to me?"

"What?" he asked, looking up at me. I sighed.

"What you told me, about you having to suggest taking me to formal before it even occurred to him. Was that a lie?" Scott's face scrunched up in something akin to agony.

"Well no, but…"

"Then I don't care, Scott," I lied. "Yeah, it hurt, but you were telling the truth. Sometimes I don't like being reminded how much more everyone loves Lydia, but it's a fact."

"No!" Scott protested, his voiced strained. "Sadie, I… I mean, yeah I suggested he take you to formal, but it's not like Stiles… It's not like he wasn't already… He was…" Scott trailed off, and I smacked his hands away as he tried to run his hand through his hair in frustration. "Look, what I said was true, but it's not totally true."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, scrunching up my face. He sighed.

"It's like… Yeah, that happened, but other stuff happened too and if I leave that out, it kinda makes it feel like I'm…still lying?"

"Okay," I said, trying desperately to keep the shake out of my voice, even if Scott could hear my heartbeat rising with nerves. "What other stuff?"

"I…can't tell you…" Scott replied reluctantly. My spirits dropped, and he immediately piped, "Not because I don't want to! It's just like, it's how you wouldn't tell me what happened when you hung out with Allison, or how Stiles didn't want to tell you I was a werewolf, cause it's not really my thing to say cause he's my best friend and he was like, really drunk, so…"

"Yeah, bro code, I get it," I said shortly, screwing the cap back onto the makeup cream I was working with. Scott watched forlornly as I put my supplies away, then had to stop and take them out again as I remembered I still had to do Stiles's makeup and my own.

"I really wish I could tell you, Sadie," he mumbled, lips twitching up into a momentary smile. "Like, I really wish I could tell you what he said."

"Can you do me a favor and stop dangling?" I snapped. "If you're not gonna tell me, stop talking about it. Just go put on your costume, come back, and I'll put on the finishing touches." Resigned, Scott nodded quietly, grabbing the hanger of clothes from the door and heading down to the bathroom. I busied myself with setting up the makeup I needed for Stiles, who would be much more complicated than Scott, trying to push all thoughts of the previous conversation out of my head.

Scott returned a few minutes later completely dressed, gripping the edges of his cape and flapping childishly.

"So? How do I look?" I grinned wildly at the overall effect.

"You look like I'm a freaking genius. It's awesome."

"Cool," he replied, smiling sweetly.

"Okay, come here so I can finish you up, and then you're done." Scott plopped back into the chair, still playing with the edges of his cape as I painted a more defined, "Dracula" hairline and added the fake blood on the corners of his mouth. Without knocking or any warning whatsoever, Stiles strode into the room, collapsing on my bed, face in pillow. "Wow, thanks for knocking, asshat," I shot. He groaned quietly, flipping his head so his face was facing Scott and I.

"Your mom started singing along to the song from _Hocus Pocus_. I decided to give her a little privacy."

"You put on _Hocus Pocus _without me?" I demanded angrily, standing up to full height and recapping the fake blood. "That is my Halloween movie. Have you listened to anything I said this week?"

"Uh, not really," he replied with a grin. "Every time you said something close to Halloween, I kinda just tuned you out for the sake of my sanity." Scott sensed there was an argument about to occur, so he interrupted by spinning in his chair and standing up so Stiles could see his costume.

"So? What do you think?"

"Oh my God!" Stiles exclaimed, pushing himself up into a sitting position and bursting out laughing. "You're going as Dracula?! That's freaking hilarious!" I giggled at Stiles's response, crossing my arms and giving Scott a pointed look. Unfortunately, Scott just returned the smirk, glancing back as his best friend. "Dude, you look sick," Stiles went on. Scott grinned. "No, I mean seriously, you look like you're about to keel over and die. You okay?"

"He's undead, Stiles," I smirked. "He's supposed to look like that." Stiles seemed to relax marginally, smiling.

"Well then you also look sick like awesome-sick."

"Okay! So!" I clapped my hands and turned back to my tower of drawers. "Last thing is fangs."

"Uh guys," Scott chuckled. "I don't know if you noticed, but I've kinda got fangs of my own." I snapped up straight, turning to stare at him in astonishment.

"You seriously think I'm gonna let you tap into your barely controllable wolf-powers for fangs?" I demanded. Scott shrugged. "Nuh uh, you'll be wearing these." I tossed him a chunk of plastic, one of the cheap sets of foldable fake vampire teeth that every costume store seemed to sell. Scott raised his eyebrows.

"You couldn't get anything better than this?"

"Of course I could have," I beamed. Stiles laughed at Scott's confusion.

"It's irony," he explained. "You've got actual fangs, so she's giving you the worst possible fake ones. It's like our inside joke."

"Oh!" Scott gasped, breaking into a huge smile. "I get it." Stiles grinned fondly at his slowness, patting him on the shoulder.

"Knew you'd get there eventually, big guy."

"Okay, so Scott you are all done," I informed him. "Please vacate the premises so Stiles can wolf-out." Scott grinned as Stiles cheered, throwing his arms up into the air and perching himself on the spinny chair. Without a word, Scott smirked at the two of us and backed out of the room. I forced the glare off my face, turning back to Stiles.

"Just to clarify," he began, twisting back and forth in his seat. "Why is Scott not allowed to be here?"

"Because you get this," I explained, tossing him a package I'd managed to get my hands on. I had yet to cut it out of the plastic, but inside was a silicon, prosthetic werewolf snout. Stiles's mouth dropped open. "And it's gonna be hell to get on, so as hard as it is, I need you to try and not talk and not move."

"Absolutely," he agreed, waving the package in his hands. "I will be completely and utterly still."

As I predicted, Stiles was _not_ completely and utterly still. I knew he wasn't doing it on purpose, but his inability to remain motionless was beginning to grate on my nerves. Twenty minutes later, I was still attempting to apply the damn thing to his nose. He kept moving his head or twitching, ripping up the edges I'd managed to get smooth and forcing me to clean the glue off and start all over.

"I swear to God, Stiles!" I roared as he moved for what must have been the hundredth time. "If you move again I'm gonna fucking kill you."

"I'm sorry!" he whined. "It itches!"

"It's gonna itch a lot more when I punch you in the face," I growled, knowing it didn't make sense but too angry to care. I took a deep steadying breath. "Okay, let's try this again. Don't. Move." Ever so carefully, I began to glue the edges of the silicon down. I'd gotten about a quarter of the way around when Stiles anxiously jerked his head slightly, causing the prosthetic to wrinkle. I lost it. "You know what?! That's it!" And before I knew what I was doing, I shoved him into the back of the chair, swung one leg over him and sat on him. "Stop moving!"

But the command was unnecessary, as Stiles had effectively gone stock-still. I smoothed out the wrinkle with ease, returning to the task at hand, which seemed much easier from this angle. It actually took several seconds for the situation to sink in. I think in the end it was Stiles's face that made me realize it. His mouth was agape, and though it was wide open it seemed as though he wasn't breathing. He was staring at me with a strange expression, maple eyes wide and practically falling out of his face. I thought back to the last time I had seen Stiles look like that, when I reached my hand into his pocket at the school. And then my brain finally seemed to catch up with me. I was sitting on Stiles's lap. I had freaked out, lost every shred of sanity for a single moment, and decided it might be a good idea to straddle the kid. What the hell was I doing in Stiles's lap?!

I froze, my mind reeling. What the hell was I thinking? Or rather, why hadn't I been thinking at all? But Stiles wasn't spazzing or shoving me off. He seemed stunned, completely rigid underneath me. The phrase "deer in the headlights" came to mind, but for some reason it didn't seem strong enough. It was as if he was petrified, eyes staring forward at me, hands hovering awkwardly out to the sides, having ripped them from their previous position on his legs. I imagined I must have looked very similar, eyes wide open with the realization of what I'd done, lips slightly parted with shallow breath, my hands brushing his cheeks as I paused in fright. I felt the heat rising starting from the base of my neck, climbing higher towards my jawline and pink cheeks as I tried desperately not to think about where I was seated. My blood seemed to boil and run cold at the same time. My heart had stopped but I could hear my pulse pounding in my ears. My stomach was fluttering and twisting and churning as I stared back at the burnt amber irises in front of me. And then it hit me like a ton of bricks. I liked Stiles. I'd been denying it to everyone, to my mom, to Allison, to Lydia, to Scott. But from my current vantage point it was completely impossible to deny the butterflies I had in my stomach, and even though I was scared out of my mind by what I had done—he had to be uncomfortable, God he looked so uncomfortable, was I super heavy, what if I was really heavy and he felt like he was being squashed, did I smell okay—I couldn't say I disliked the position. But Stiles couldn't know that. Even if everyone else had been right, even if I did like him, he was my friend and he was still in love with Lydia. Stiles saw me only as a friend, and Scott had even admitted I never once occurred to Stiles as an option. And he was too wonderful to lose as a friend, even if I wasn't friends with Scott, even if I wasn't forced to see him because I was one of the few people in Beacon Hills who knew about werewolves. So Stiles couldn't know.

My heart pounding brought me back to consciousness, as if with every thump my circulatory system was reminding me that I should probably not just sit in Stiles's lap, and teasing me with every beat that Scott could probably hear me going crazy from the living room. I blinked hard. Several seconds must have passed, and Stiles and I were still staring at each other. I cleared my throat.

"Don't move," I repeated softly. And then I went back to gluing on his fake werewolf snout as if nothing had happened. As if I didn't really have an army butterflies bouncing off the walls in my stomach. As if I wasn't hyper aware of Stiles's body heat, or any time his legs twitched under mine. I just kept working as if none of it bothered me at all.

Stiles and I both remained completely silent. I'd promptly gotten off him after the prosthetic was firmly in place, and continued to paint the rest of his skin while I was standing. The problem I'd had shading Scott's skin was completely reversed in Stiles's case. While Scott had been too tan to be made white, Stiles was too pale to be painted straight brown. I had to mix and mix brown with white until I got a suitable color, painting on the hard contours of non-existent muscles on his face, bulging on under his brows or in a snapping jaw. His face looked distinctly more animalistic when I'd finished, and it looked ever better since I'd gone all out with the snout and fangs. Stiles was so excited about the costume that I'd decided to spring for proper fakes, miles better than Scott's plastic play-teeth. I smiled at my handiwork, and declared him finished, handing Stiles a folded pile of clothes: ratty sneakers, a torn flannel shirt and dirty jeans. I'd shredded and frayed them all, adding patches of fur through some of the holes to make it seem like the clothes had ripped as he wolfed out. I stacked two clawed wolf gloves on top, as well as a wig.

"Um, no," Stiles disagreed, picking the wig up between his fingers. His voice was slightly hoarse, the first time he'd spoken in over an hour. "I'm not wearing a wig."

"Um, yeah you are," I replied, placing the item back on top of the clothes. "You're gonna look weird in the costume with your hair that short. It's way shorter than the hair in _The Wolf Man_." Stiles narrowed his eyes at the offending object, and I sighed. "Please just try it on? For authenticity's sake." Reluctantly, Stiles stood, snatching the pile from me.

"For visual accuracy," he agreed before walking out of the door and down to the bathroom. I watched them empty doorway until I heard the bathroom door close. When I was sure Stiles was safely out of the way, I emitting a pathetic sound somewhere between a sigh of relief and a groan of despair. What a way to realize I had a crush on the guy.

I dragged myself over to my vanity, plopping my elbows on the surface and peering at myself in the mirror through the fingers covering my face. It seemed obvious to me now, the signs everyone else had been reading, and I tried to imagine how I'd been so successfully in denial for so long. Even today, I'd gotten up at around six in the morning to shower, blow dry my hair, and apply flattering makeup I'd only be taking off in a few hours just because I wanted to pick up the boys, pick up Stiles, as soon as possible. I stared moodily at my reflection, glaring at the neat lines of eyeliner, the even complexion and blush that was only half caused by actual makeup, as if the cosmetics had betrayed me in hiding my feelings. I snatched up the makeup remover, roughly wiping the products from my face. I needed to clean it off before I applied my costume make up anyway, but I also felt as if I needed to erase the fact that I had tried so hard to look presentable.

"Everything okay in here?" I jumped and turned around to find Scott the friendly neighborhood vampire in my doorway. He wandered into the room with a slight grin, hands stuffed in his pockets. "I could hear you guys all the way downstairs."

"I didn't say you could come up yet," I countered, ignoring the hidden question about my peaked heart rate. Scott shrugged.

"I heard you tell Stiles he was done," he explained. "Nice line, by the way, about the authenticity."

"Thanks," I mumbled, turning back to the mirror and pulling my hair back into a ponytail to keep it out of my face while I worked.

"So, what happened?" I ignored him, cleaning off my skin before I could put on a base coat to grab the colored face paint, making it stay on my face longer and without wear. "You know, if you don't tell me I'm just gonna ask Stiles," he prodded when I was silent. Slowly, I placed the cream back down in front of me, turning around on the stool.

"I sort of…sat on him." It wasn't just an answer, but a submission. In those six words, I'd not only informed Scott why my heart rate had skyrocketed, but admitted that, yes, I knew what he was talking about and, yes, I had a crush on Stiles. I was giving in.

"You _what_?" Scott demanded. His heavily darkened eyebrows shot up, looking extremely comical with all the makeup.

"He kept moving!" I hissed in defense. "I was just trying to do his makeup and he kept twitching and I got frustrated and next thing I knew I was sitting his lap to keep him still. I wasn't thinking. You don't need to remind me what a terrible idea it was."

"Uh, no," Scott coughed, clearly attempting to hide his extreme amusement. "I uh…" Words seemed to fail him as he suddenly burst out into raucous laughter. I narrowed my eyes as he clutched his stomach, wheezing in delight of my discomfort.

"Wow, thanks Scott," I growled, turning back to the mirror. He hardly seemed to notice, bent forward as he laughed, his face completely scrunched up. "You better not cry," I shot. "Not only will I have to kick your ass for thinking it's that funny, but I'll have to do it twice because you ruined your makeup."

"S-Sorry," he gasped, trying to compose himself and not touch his face. "Oh God, you… Sadie, that's…" However, for whatever reason, he didn't finish the sentence. I wasn't sure if it was because he was afraid he would start laughing again or if he seriously felt so terrible for me that he couldn't figure out a non-offensive way to end the sentence. I ended his pause for him.

"Scott, you cannot tell Stiles," I ordered seriously. The vampire-werewolf in front of me sobered up almost immediately, still grinning, but eyes holding a certain wounded astonishment.

"No, I-I wouldn't tell him," Scott assured me. "Never. It goes both ways, you know, like…like you not telling Allison that I'm a werewolf or that I love her. I'd never tell him anything you said." I relaxed slightly, still on edge. I suddenly felt very exposed, as if sharing my secret with Scott somehow meant he could see me more clearly, see more of me. It left me vulnerable.

The loaded silence was broken by a joyous whoop from down the hallway as the bathroom door swung open.

"Awroooo!" Stiles slid into the doorway fully dressed, howling and baring his claws and teeth. Scott and I laughed as he composed himself, practically bouncing up and down like a child. "Guys! I'm a werewolf!"

"Yeah, Stiles, we know," Scott chuckled, watching his friend in amusement.

"No, guys! _I_ am a werewolf and _I_ look kickass!"

"You're welcome," I grinned, eyes scanning over the costume to make sure everything was complete. Stiles beamed.

"That's not what I look like," Scott commented in mild confusion.

"Good," Stiles replied, claws on hips. "You'd be like the worst costume ever." I chuckled, wandering over to smooth out some of the tufts of hair poking through the shirt.

"We were going for more of a Larry Talbot look," I informed him.

"Larry…?" Scott asked in confusion. I was about to snap at him when he saved himself. "Oh, wait, is that the dude from your werewolf movie?" Stiles and I both glanced at him in surprise.

"_The Wolf Man_, yeah," Stiles answered. "You know, Scott, there might be hope for you yet." I grinned, patting Stiles on the shoulder.

"Okay, well it looks like you two are good to go, so… Get out."

"What?" Stiles whined. "Why?"

"Because I need to do my makeup now," I reminded him, turning him on the spot and pushing him toward the door.

"But you don't need to worry about us talking or keeping still," Scott pointed out.

"No, but I do need to be able to concentrate," I replied tugging him along. "Just go put on _Night of the Living Dead. _I think that's about all the time I'll need."

"But that's like an hour and a half!" Stiles complained. I shrugged.

"I've got a lot of work to do. Now scoot." Stiles huffed and tried to pout, but he couldn't manage it with the fake teeth in.

"Girls," he grumbled, walking away with his friend. I smiled and shut the door, turning back to my makeup station. Time to get to work.

My estimate ended up being just about dead on. I'd needed to paint my arms, legs, face and neck a sickly grey-green, and then added dirt smudges, scars, spots of decay and open wounds, which were of course the best part. I hollowed out my cheeks, made my eyes sink as far as they could into my head, and painted my eyelashes and eyebrows white, as well as a few tufts of hair, which I'd teased into a literal rats' nest. I slid into a torn, ragged sundress and a destroyed pair of Mary Janes, and after checking over my makeup and adding some more fake blood, I walked down stairs a completely horrifying undead farm girl zombie. I was usually satisfied with my own costume makeup, but I'd properly outdone myself today.

I snuck into the living room as quietly as possible, inching towards the back of the couch where Stiles and Scott sat enthralled by the movie. It was just reaching the end, where all of the survivors in the farmhouse get attacked, and I mentally celebrated my own good timing. I loomed over them, and as the screen faded to black, Scott caught sight of my reflection.

"Uh, Stiles…?" he tugged on his friend's sleeve, pointing to the television. They both slowly turned around to look up at me. I let out a broken, half-dead groan, and both boys freaked. They screamed shrilly, sliding off the couch and into a tangled mess of flailing arms and legs on the floor. I burst out laughing, clutching my stomach as they tried to compose themselves.

"Hey! Don't mess up your makeup!" I barked through my giggles. "I'm not fixing it!" Scott groaned when he realized it was just me, though Stiles was still gasping, chest heaving up and down as he tried to recover from the panic.

"You're the worst," Scott grumbled, and my mother came flying into the room.

"What is it? Is everything…?" She trailed off as she looks around the room, zombie-me laughing my ass off and both boys on the floor. "Oh, okay. Wow, nice scare, sweetie. I honestly thought they were being murdered."

"Thank you, Mom!" I replied in a singsong voice as the boys climbed slowly to their feet. "Sorry," I apologized, handing them pillowcases to collect candy it. "Too good of an opportunity."

"Well you look…dead…" Stiles observed, nodding his approval. I rolled my eyes.

"Thanks, Stiles. Just what every girl wants to hear."

"It looks awesome, Sadie," Scott complimented with a small grin, which I returned.

"Okay!" I cheered. "Let's get this show on the road!"

"Wait!" my mother said shrilly, dashing off. "Pictures!"

A hundred pictures later—all of them featuring Scott with closed eyes—Stiles, Scott and I hit the streets. We walked around for hours, trying to cover as much of residential Beacon Hills as possible. We got a lot of strange looks, which was hilarious, both because we were some of the oldest kids out and because our costumes were truly magnificent. We got a handful of compliments from adults in their houses, along with handfuls of candy, and elicited a scream or two from the wandering elementary school kids. It was a bit sadistic, and I felt bad for the parents who had to deal with children sobbing about monsters roaming the streets, but it made me just a tiny bit proud too. Crying children were an assurance that the costumes did justice to their original Hollywood counterparts.

As we'd planned, a couple hours later we came to a stop in front of the Argents' house. Scott looked at it in longing, which I attempted to ignore for the most part.

"Well, thank you for inviting me," I said with gratitude. "This has successfully been one of my favorite Halloweens ever."

"Thanks for forcing yourself into our plans," Stiles replied with a smirk.

"I'd hug, but you can't screw up your makeup until after the party," I reminded him. Both boys nodded, Stiles looking a little more excited about the prospect of partying at Lydia's now that the important Halloween traditions were out of the way. "I'll see you guys later," I dismissed, lugging my sack of candy up to the house.

I hopped up onto the porch, ringing the doorbell and waiting patiently. After a few moments, Mr. Argent pulled the door open, giving a start when he saw me instead of a hoard of seven year olds.

"Trick or treat!" I grinned, causing Mr. Argent to smirk and shake his head.

"Tell me, Sadie, do you like Halloween?"

"Just a bit," I replied, trying to suppress a giggle. He smiled and stepped aside, hand gesturing up the stairs.

"Allison's in her room, and I'm sure my wife would appreciate it if you could try not to uh, ooze on the floor." I beamed, nodding my head and stepping carefully over the threshold.

"Will do, Mr. Argent." I treaded precariously up the steps, easing my way over to Allison's bedroom door. I considered knocking, then decided I'd better not since I'd probably get paint all over the door. "Hey, Allison?" I called. "It's Sadie."

"Oh hey!" she called back, and there was a light rustling as she got up to open the door. "I didn't hear you come—oh my God!" Allison jumped back from the door as it swung open, revealing my zombified body. I laughed at her, waving a hand slightly and entering the room without invitation. "Sadie, what the hell?!"

"What?" I asked innocently, tossing my bag of candy on the bed with a non-too-soft thump. "I'm a zombie."

"Yeah, I can see that," she replied shakily. "Is Lydia seriously letting you wear that to the party?"

"No, of course not," I laughed. "That's why we're getting ready here, and why I'm going to ask for the embarrassing favor for use of your shower." Allison laughed, raising her eyebrows as her eyes scanned my costume, cataloging the amount of paint I was covered in.

"Yeah you definitely need to shower. Come on." She bounced over to her closet, grabbing the hanger and garment bag I'd dropped at her house yesterday with my party dress in it. Then she led me down the hall to the bathroom, graciously showing me how to work the faucet. She ducked out for a matter of seconds before striding back in with a smirk. "Okay, so I got you some car towels so you don't stain the good ones with your gross zombie-skin, and once you're positive you've got all the paint off, you can use this one." She placed the stack of towels on the toilet seat, then tossed what looked like a hunk of steel wool on top with a wink. "And that's for scrubbing your decay out of the bathtub."

"Thank you, oh gracious host," I replied, attempting and failing to run my fingers through my hair. She winked.

"No problem. Get washed up. You still have to help me with my costume too." I nodded and Allison shut the door.

I tried as hard as I could to make my shower short. I had to scrub furiously to get the makeup off, and trying to get the tangles and paint out of my hair was a nightmare, but I didn't want to use too much of the Argents' hot water. Finally, I did manage to get myself completely zombie-free. My skin was red and felt positively raw, but I figured it would have time to soothe out while I worked on Allison's make up. I climbed out of the shower, drying myself off and slipping into my dress before using the hair dryer under the sink to blow my hair out. Confident that both my body and the bathroom were clean, I padded back to Allison's room.

She had already slipped into the clothing part of the costume I'd made for her. After a long discussion with Lydia, we'd decided to go for something girly, but still distinctly Allison. I'd adapted one of my old ballet costumes into a fairy dress, slightly poofy skirt looking like it was made of rose petals, and a pale green bodice with vines and leaves painted and glued on. She'd also opted for a pair of white tights, and tweaked ballet flats that had ribbons that wound up her calves. I beamed.

"Good to see you're back to being human," she commented as I strode in. I chuckled, laying the garment bag, which now held my zombie costume, on her bed.

"I am. And now it's time for you to not be. Come here!" Allison raised her eyebrows at my excitement.

"Wow, for a moment there you actually sounded like Lydia." I glared playfully at her.

"I am just super passionate about Halloween and ready to make you look super cute. Now do you want to hear about my day or not?"

Allison relented and let me fuss over her hair and makeup while I told her about my morning, afternoon, and evening with the boys. I'd been hesitant to tell her about any time I'd spent with Scott, but she insisted she was fine and that I should continue. My pace slowed when I approached the part of the story where I was doing Stiles's makeup. It was a good thing Allison's party makeup was minimal—glowing skin, decorative eyeliner that curled into swirls down her cheeks and pale lipstick—stuff I quickly finished and didn't need her to remain motionless for, because when I finally revealed that I'd actually sat on Stiles Stilinski's lap, she actually screamed. I hushed her furiously, but it seemed Allison could not be reasoned with. She batted away my hands from her hair, where I'd been incorporating more ribbons and leaves, and stared at me with a wide mouthed grin. She went into a giggling tirade, which was not helped by my confession that she may have been right about me having a crush on Stiles. She was chanting things like, "oh my God, oh my God," and, "I knew it! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!" I was actually preparing myself for a rousing chorus of "Sadie and Stiles sitting in a tree." Thankfully, she seemed to have a little more integrity than that. I tried my best to ignore her as I started my own makeup, but now that I had finally given her a formal confession, it appeared Allison wanted to pay me back for all the time I'd spent listening to her talk about Scott. I reminded her tirelessly that Stiles and I didn't have that kind of relationship, and most likely never would seeing as he was in love with my roommate. Allison had waved that tiny tidbit off, correcting my phrasing to "blinded by Lydia" and hurrying on to ask me to share any stories I had about the time I'd been spending with Stiles. Obviously, I had plenty of stories of the time I'd been spending with Stiles, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to start with the marathon we'd run in the school with a werewolf on our heels, or our fun bonding while we watched over her moody, werewolf ex-boyfriend during the full moon. Just to get her off my back, I gave her tiny half stories, like how Stiles and I had been texting at the table while she planned her group date with Lydia, or how he'd hugged me after the video store attack and gave his all trying to beat me in video games. It seemed to be enough to sate her, giving me enough time to complete my makeup and costume before there was another knock on the door.

"Hello?" Kate stuck her head in, festively dressed in an orange sweater with black slacks. She gave a low whistle when she saw us, beaming. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you both look like you belong in a Halloween catalog," she sighed, faking disappointment. She did a slight double take. "Hang on, what happened to the undead Sadie Bennet my brother was telling me about?"

"This is just my costume for Lydia's party," I explained, gesturing down at my body. I was sporting a basic little black dress, one Lydia had picked out for me. This was obvious by the way it tightly hugged my curves all the way down to my thighs, instead of poofing out at the waist like the dresses I normally chose. As usual, it was paired with sheer black stockings and black pumps. I had brushed my hair back to its normal straightness, and done fairly normal makeup, dark liner, smoky eyes and red lips. The only things that really made it a costume were the cat ears I'd thrown on my head, the tail hanging down my back, my cherry red collar with a large gold bell, and the whiskers and cat eyes I'd painted on. It wasn't a costume I normally would have gone for, but as Lydia had chosen to be a flirty witch, I'd consented to be her familiar as repayment for spending the rest of the holiday with Stiles and Scott. Kate smirked.

"And this wouldn't have anything to do with impressing your formal date, right?"

"No," I replied firmly. "This has everything to do with me getting my roommate off my back about the party." Allison giggled maniacally from the bed, shedding suspicion onto my story. Kate glanced at her niece, raising her eyebrows. I huffed. "Okay fine, maybe it has a little something to do with catching Stiles's attention, but it's mostly because of Lydia!"

"Ah!" Kate half squealed, shutting the door firmly behind her. "Does this mean you're out of denial?" I groaned, collapsing on the bed next to Allison.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Hey, no pouting," Kate scolded, sitting on the comforter as well. "Because you know what that means?"

"What?" Allison asked with excitement.

"It means I can finally give you boy advice."

Kate seemed to have an endless realm of knowledge. She knew how to joke, she knew how to shoot, and she also seemed to know everything there was to know about catching the attention of boys who were particularly reluctant. She kept the advice up as I finished my interrupted work on Allison's hair. She told me what to wear, what to do in various situations and listed about a thousand subtle yet suggestive turns of phrase to slip into conversation that I didn't think I'd ever be confident enough to use. Her last piece of advice had been a very sage thought I knew I couldn't follow through on.

"But you know what they say," she mused, helping me with Allison's fairy costume by gluing a small leaf to her niece's temple. "The best way to get a guy's attention is to suddenly stop giving him yours."

"I can't _not_ talk to Stiles," I dismissed through my teeth, mouth currently muffled by bobby pins. Kate chuckled.

"I know it's hard when you first realize you like a guy, hun, but…"

"No," I interrupted. "I mean like my day-to-day activities require me to talk to Stiles. It's not something I can easily get around."

"Well, you don't have to talk to him all the time," she pointed out, reaching out to pull the bobby pins out of my mouth and holding them for me instead. "Why don't you just try not talking to him tonight?"

"After I invited him and Scott to the party? How am I supposed to do that?"

"Well, it's a party," Allison offered. "Just flit around and socialize with everyone else like Lydia wants you to."

"Besides, you already spent the whole day with the guy," Kate reminded me. "Just steer clear of him for the rest of the night." She paused, rethinking her words. "Well, steer clear of talking to him. You don't wanna be too far from his line of sight when you look that hot and you've got a collar around your neck."

"Kate!" I laughed, ripping the last bobby pin out of her hand. She and Allison both giggled.

"I'm just saying he's a teenage boy!" she defended with a shrug. "Even if he doesn't say it out loud, that's kinky." We all subsided into uncontrollable laughter until finally Kate pushed us out of the room, offering to drive us back to my house.

Lydia answered the door already in her witch costume. She wore a short, poufy almost tutu-esque skirt with a black bodice and faux-corset round the middle. She'd amped up her usual outfit by trading her normal stockings for clichéd, striped tights and knee high boots with buckles on the feet. Instead of a large witch's hat, she'd opted for a very small one on a headband, which sported yet another buckle. She was ecstatic when she saw us.

"Ah! You both look fantastic! Sadie, I knew I taught you well!" she squealed, clapping her hands and taking the garment bag from me so it could be properly disposed of upstairs.

"Excuse you, I take complete credit for this talent," I replied smugly. "You can claim responsibility for my everyday looks, but costume makeup is and always has been my thing."

"Fine, fine," she agreed. "Now get in here and help me set up!"

Since I had already done most of the decorations myself, the party was mostly already set up. Lydia had set up several tables in the back, covered per my instruction, with red table clothes and candelabras with battery operated tea-candles. The tables were loaded with finger foods, everything from candied apples, chicken tenders, chips and salsa, bowls of candy, and scattered with glitter and candy corn. The fake graves I'd planted looked perfect and eerie in the evening light, even if Lydia had taken the liberty of adding flowers and more glitter to all of the headstones. The candles inside the jack-o-lanterns had been lit, and there were a variety of yellow and orange faces staring at us from every angle. I practically squealed when I noticed the light smoke billowing over the grass, courtesy of the fog machine Lydia had magically acquired, and not too far from the porch stood three large wooden buckets, all filled with water and shining red apples. I launched myself at Lydia for a hug. It was everything I'd ever hoped for.

Not long after Allison and I arrived, the guests started pouring in. Jackson arrived first, coincidentally dressed in his lacrosse uniform and carrying a football helmet. Then Danny dressed as… Well to be honest I wasn't quite sure what Danny was. He was almost as creative and passionate about the holiday as I was when he had a reason to be, and the party had given him just enough of an excuse to put together a beautiful costume of his own design. Then Christine Ashwood as a cheerleader; Evie and Brian as a devil and angel respectively, which was more than slightly off-putting; Dylan Peters as either a pimp or a rapper, since none of the guests seemed to be able to tell what he was going for. I even recognized Rebecca when she strolled in as Storm from X-Men, towing her Harry Potter boyfriend behind her. I hung out with them for a while before I politely ducked out so they could have some privacy. Instead, I was pulled into a wonderful conversation with Danny about everything from the original traditions of Halloween, to the weird techy reason he owned a fog machine—as I discovered he was the reason Lydia had been able to get one—in the first place, to the gruesome math test that was approaching the Monday we got back to school. I spent a lot of the party with Danny, two kids ditched by their best friends to go make out in a corner as usual. He tried to back me up when a very drunk Dylan Peters challenged me to bobbing for apples, attempting to talk his teammate down. But I'd had enough of Lydia's suspicious, blood red punch that I took the bet, demanding he leave me alone for the entirety of the next week if and when I won. He'd merely smirked, countering that his win meant I'd have to go on a date with him, which we all knew was basically a straight up code for propositioning me. Danny reluctantly agreed to be the referee, mumbling something about bad ideas as Dylan and I kneeled down in front of our own buckets.

"Three… Two… One… Go!" I dunked my head face first into the bucket, not one to waste time. I could feel water splashing my exposed back as Dylan flailed about in the water and mentally sighed. The boy simply did not know the word 'strategy.' I targeted one apple and pressed it against the wall of the bucket before, with surprising ease, sinking my teeth into the apple's flesh. I jumped up from my knees apple still in my mouth and threw my arms up in the air. There was a smattering applause from onlookers, as well as a few lighthearted boos from the lacrosse players who'd been rooting for Dylan. He lifted his head from the bucket at the noise, hair plastered over his face. He opened his mouth to ask what had happened, but I immediately raised a hand, pointing at him warningly.

"Ah ah ah," I piped, removing the apple from my mouth. "I don't want to hear your voice for another week. Buh-bye." Peters rolled his eyes, getting to his feet and walking away, sopping wet and ready to be accepted into a small group of at least semi-sympathetic lacrosse players. Danny grinned, high fiving me. But instead of lowering his hand, he grabbed mine and tugged me just a tad closer.

"I think you have an audience," he chuckled. I followed his gaze over my shoulder, spotting a familiar vampire and werewolf watching from my porch. When I turned around, Stiles's face changed instantly from a smirk to plain shock, his jaw dropping completely, while Scott just smiled in astonishment. I took a deep breath before jogging over to them.

"Hey, guys!" I greeted, wiping the damp hair from my face. "Glad you could make it."

"Yeah, well you invited us," Scott reminded me, and he began to look wildly around the backyard. "Have you seen…?"

"She's over by the snacks," I answered before he could finish, gesturing easily towards the table where Allison was picking at the bowl of sweets. "Do not talk to her, Scott."

"I'm not going to," he assured me, backing away from Stiles and I and making his way closer to the table. "I'm just gonna…" But just what he intended to do, he never told us. Instead, he turned midsentence and walked away. I turned back to Stiles with a nervous grin, but he was still staring at me blankly.

"Why…you're…not a zombie…"

"No," I chuckled. "This is the Lydia Martin approved Halloween costume, actually. I think I looked better undead."

"No!" Stiles replied immediately. "I mean, uh, no you look…" He trailed off, eyes scanning my outfit as if he expected to find the correct word written on me somewhere. Just as Kate had predicted, I noticed his wide eyes linger momentarily on the collar around my neck. He swallowed, forcing his eyes up to my face. "Um, your whiskers are kind of…uh, like smudged…"

"What?" I reached up and touched my cheek, glancing down at my fingers as they came away wet and tinged with black paint. "Oh, yeah. I was bobbing for apples."

"Yeah, yes, I-I saw that," he stammered, nodding. I noticed his eyes dart down to my tail hanging down by my legs.

"Right, well I better wash this off," I excused myself, shifting my weight a little between my feet. "Enjoy the party!" I took a single, huge bite out of my apple before striding inside, leaving a stunned Stiles Stilinski alone on the back porch. I could almost sense that he was watching me go, and attempted to add enough of a sway in my hips to make my tail swing back and forth. I chanced a glance back as I rounded the corner at the end of the hallway, peeking through my hair and through the crowd just for a moment. I might have been imagining it, but I was pretty sure I could still see the amber eyes also trying to peer inconspicuously through the crowd after me. I ducked behind a corner, taking another satisfied bite of my apple.

Oh yeah. Halloween was definitely my favorite holiday.

* * *

**A/N: I'm sorry that was so very long. This is like the longest chapter yet. That wasn't supposed to happen. I just meant to write a cute little filler about Halloween, and Sadie confession to herself that she liked Stiles and then...And then this happened instead. One have one guess to guess my favorite holiday, guys. ANYWAY, I hope you all enjoyed that ridiculous amount of fluff, and for the few people who warned me that they hated fluff, I hope there was enough plot development that it wasn't too painful for you to read.**

**Thank you so much for all the new favoriters and followers, and of course all my reviewers: Lucy Greenhill, TameTheGhosts, xALFiex, GetsueiNoYume, becca1130, CypherToorima, Isaac fan, ScornedxRose, Krisseh, vanillaclouds101, xxxxninaxxxx, Kelly1432, Lojo2014o, LifeToDeath, BrainsBeforeBeauty, KageNoUta27, LynZann, CharlotteAHJones, ellisbellisballs, and LionHeartMisfit!**

**As usual guys, especially with filler chapters that come completely from my brain, please let me know what you think! I'm excited to hear your thoughts on this new development!**

**-Brittney**


	22. Chapter 22

The problem with admitting to yourself that you have a crush on someone is that it sends your brain into overdrive. Suddenly you feel the need to analyze every tiny thing they do, or attempt to plan out conversations in your head before actually speaking, and it causes at least sixty-four other notable problems. Currently, I was dealing with the fashion side effect, which forced me to change my outfit at least twice even though I knew tonight would be strictly werewolf business. I stared at myself in the mirror, trying to convince myself not to change yet again. I had finally decided on a pair of black leggings, tucked into high black boots and layered under a simple denim skirt. I had a white tank top on, and over that I had thrown a red plaid shirt, all the front buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up over my elbows. I sighed, running a hand through my hair and blotting my lip gloss once more.

"Well, I guess this is as good as it's gonna get," I mumbled, and I grabbed my purse and phone and skipped down the stairs. Mom was waiting for me in the kitchen, and I snagged a chicken cutlet off the plate she was wrapping up.

"Now, remind me why you're going out again," she mused, sticking the plate of cutlets in the fridge.

"I'm just hanging out," I replied casually, taking a bite of my stolen snack.

"And where exactly are you going?"

"Mom," I groaned. "I don't have time for this. Stiles is gonna be here any minute." Instead of getting upset by my evasive attitude, she grinned.

"He's coming to pick you up? Are you sure this isn't a date? Cause this sounds like a date."

"Yes, Mom, I am sure that this is not a date. We're meeting up with Scott." But Mom didn't seem ready to drop the subject.

"You've been hanging out with them an awful lot," she pointed out. "And don't think I haven't noticed you checking your phone so often, or changing your clothes. You never used to wear lip gloss to go meet up with the boys." I internally cursed my mother's intuition, pressing my lips together as if trying to hide my makeup. "Come on, Sadie. Three words and I'll let you go out without question, and I'll drop the whole thing."

"Please stop talking," I begged. She glared at me playfully. "I love you?"

"I want my confession, honey." I glared at her for a moment before crossing my arms over my chest.

"Fine, I…" I sighed, dropping my gaze and trying to look anywhere but my mother's gleeful expression. "I like Stiles."

"Thank you!" my mother squealed, and she dashed out from behind the counter to hug me. I giggled, pushing her off.

"Mom! Stop!" Reluctantly, she relinquished me, only to start fussing with my hair.

"Sorry, I know I'm embarrassing. I just really like him."

"Really, Mom? I'm pretty sure the entirety of Beacon Hills knows that." But she wasn't paying attention.

"Let's do something new with your hair. Do you want my headband? Here, take my headband." I begrudgingly let her tug the black band out of her own hair and ram it onto my head, sliding it behind my ears and pulling my hair around it. My phone went off in my pocket and I batted her away, pulling out my phone to read the text from Stiles.

_"Ready when you are."_

"Mom! I've gotta go," I announced giving her a slight hug before heading for the door. She scurried after me.

"Okay, well have fun! Good luck! Tell Stiles I said hello!"

"No," I replied, making her pout as I swung the door open and jogged down the steps. Stiles was waiting in the Jeep parked at the end of my driveway, and I quickly launched myself into the passenger seat and slammed the door behind me. "Please drive away before my mother chases me down."

"That bad?" he asked, quickly following my instructions and pulling into the street.

"Ugh, she just wanted to lecture me." I looked over at him and did a double take. "You're wearing a hat." Stiles glanced at me, raising his eyebrows.

"Yes, thank you. I'm so glad we keep you around for your sharp observational skills."

"Sorry, it's just…I don't think I've ever seen you wear a hat before," I mused, staring at the brown cap he'd twisted backwards on his head.

"Yeah, and you don't wear headbands that often. It's an exciting headgear day for everyone." I rolled my eyes, turning to look out the passenger window and trying to ignore the simple pleasure I got from Stiles noticing a change in my hair. Seriously, this was completely ridiculous. What was happening to me?

"So, where are we headed?" I asked, tugging on a strand of hair as my eyes followed the line on the side of the road.

"Toby's," Stiles answered, and I could hear the grin in his voice. "And then after that we're meeting Scott at the hospital."

"And you still don't want to tell me why?" I pressed.

"I told you," Stiles countered, "it's about the research I was doing."

"So, good news, then?"

"Hopefully," he nodded. Still, he refused to give me a straight answer. I gave up, resigning myself to rest my head on the back of the seat until Stiles decided to tell me what was going on.

We hopped out of the car at Toby's, ordering a burger and soda each, as well as our own portions of curly fries, since neither of us seemed willing to share. Stiles ripped the bag out of my hand when we got back to the car, as I'd been trying to steal a fry. He placed the bag in the back, reprimanding me for trying to eat before dinner was served and mumbling something about manners. I had to wait another agonizing fifteen minutes before Stiles pulled into the back parking lot of Beacon Hills Hospital and parked the Jeep. Only then did he allow me to snatch up the delicious smelling burger that had been taunting me for the whole ride. We let the Jeep idle in the lot, and Stiles put on one of our mutually favorite CDs before we sank into comfortable silence digging into the greasy take out. We would occasionally pause to burst into song along with the stereo—Stiles wasn't too bad, though he was much better at drumming his hands along on the steering wheel—or to talk about school, gossip, new movies and anything in between. We were just discussing the probability of our entire biology class failing our upcoming exam when the entire Jeep shook and there was a loud thump on the roof.

Stiles and I both jumped, and seemingly out of habit, Stiles threw his arm out over my chest. I let out a short squeal as a dark shape popped up in my window.

"What'd you find out?" Scott panted, his hands gripping the roof as he hung upside down off the top. Stiles heaved a sigh of relief and I smacked Scott's forehead, currently exposed as his fringe hung awkwardly over his head. "Ow! What was that for?!"

"What was that for?!" I hissed. "How about scaring us half to death! Or for jumping on top of the Jeep in a parking lot full of cars at the hospital! Are you crazy? Someone could see you!"

"Sorry," Scott apologized sheepishly. He kicked his legs up over his head, flipping off the Jeep with infuriating grace. He landed on his feet, back turned to us before he turned around and shot us a wide grin. I rolled my eyes, and Stiles shook his head.

"Show off," he grumbled, before we both jumped out of the vehicle. "Dude, what took you so long?" he asked as the three of us congregated in front of the Jeep.

"Sorry," Scott repeated. "Mom wouldn't let me have the car. I had to run."

"Didn't occur to you to leave earlier?" Stiles shot, and Scott narrowed his eyes.

"Stiles, can you just tell us what you found?"

"Yeah," I agreed, crossing my arms and turning to the capped boy on my left. "I think I've had enough mystery for the day." Stiles smiled slightly, nodding as he fished his phone out from his pocket.

"What I found was a bunch of videos," he started, tapping around on his phone as he attempted to pull up the video. "Speeches, lecture series, hypotheses defenses, loads, all from this one guy, this doctor."

"Okay?" Scott nodded, clearly not seeing the point. "So what?" Stiles held out his phone, resting his arm on the hood of the Jeep and displaying the screen so all three of us could see it.

"They're about lycanthropy," Stiles explained smugly, shooting each of us a glance before he pressed play. On the screen appeared an older man in front of a large white board, wearing a white coat and thoughtfully brandishing a bright red dry erase marker. Judging by the notes scribbled behind him and the light chattering of voices, I figured it was safe to assume this was one of the lectures he had delivered.

_"The term 'lycanthrope' is derived from the Greek myth of Lycan, the King of Arcadia," _the man explained to his audience, shifting his weight back and forth between his two feet. _"Renown for his cruelty, he was later transformed into a wolf by Zeus, turned into a monster as punishment for his own monstrous actions."_

"Yeah, tell us something we don't know," I murmured, causing Stiles to shush me.

_"But 'lycanthrope,' as we all know is just another name for werewolf." _Scott glanced up from the phone, sharing a fleeting look with Stiles and me. _"The half man, half wolf legend which appears in dozens of different cultures, from the vilkatas of Lithuania, to the wilkolak of Russia…"_

"Poland," I corrected under my breath. Stiles, exasperated, resorted to holding his free hand over my mouth.

_"…to the more commonly known loup-garou of France. Now, contrary to popular belief, the werewolf's abilities are not beholden to the full moon, rather they can be called upon at will. Now those abilities are ranging from incredible speed to remarkable agility, able to move in the bipedal run, while equally adept as a quadruped."_ There was a slight scuffle in the background as it sounded like someone had raised a question from the crowd. _"Yes,"_ the doctor spoke with annoyance. _"I am aware of lycanthropy, the psychological disorder in which a person mistakenly believes themselves to be a wild animal. I'm not here to discuss that. I'm not talking about a disorder of the mind. I'm talking about werewolves, the actual and proven existence of werewolves."_ The hidden audience erupted into chatter and laughter at the declaration, causing the doctor to duck his head as the video ended. I bit my lip, sharing a look with both Scott and Stiles in astonishment.

"This is the guy," Stiles said confidently, pointing briefly to his phone. "This is your cure."

"Who is he?" Scott asked, tilting his head slightly to the side like a confused dog.

"His real name's Doctor Conrad Haymberland," Stiles answered, rocking forward on his feet.

"What do you mean 'his real name'?" Scott replied, raising his eyebrows.

"He had it legally changed," Stiles informed us. "And that's how I know I got the right guy."

"Why? What'd he change it to?" I asked. Stiles smirked.

"Doctor Conrad Fenris." I let out a small breath of laughter, and Stiles nodded exaggeratedly, brandishing a finger briefly.

"Are you serious?" Scott asked.

"Yes!" Stiles cheered in excitement. I smirked, glancing over at Scott's frozen expression of carefully composed astonishment.

"Stiles," I sighed. "He's got no idea what you're talking about." Stiles's smile fell, glancing from me to his best friend, who smiled apologetically.

"Okay," Stiles conceded groaning. "Well, Fenris was the son of Loki in Norse mythology, okay?"

"Loki?" Scott repeated, furrowing his brow.

"God of Mischief," I elaborated. "Brother of Thor, the God of Thunder? You saw the movie right? Loki's the badass in black and green."

"Yeah, yeah," Scott agreed. "I got it."

"Here, Fenris," Stiles announced, pulling up an old, inked picture of the wolf mid-attack on his phone. Scott peered down at the image in confusion.

"Is he the guy on the horse?"

"He's the wolf, dumbass!" Stiles revised incredulously. "Look, he's supposed to be the influence for the story Little Red Riding Hood."

"He's like the biggest and baddest of all wolves," I added. "Fenris or Fenrir or whatever, he was the father of all wolves, and he was supposed to be the one to kill Odin, who was the ruler of all the gods." Scott just looked at us blankly. I shook my head. "No offense, Scott, but you might just be the worst werewolf ever." The were-boy gave me an annoyed, pointed look.

"So why did this guy change his name?" he asked, gesturing towards the phone to indicate Dr. Fenris.

"Well you saw the video," Stiles countered. "Everyone was laughing at him. The idiot ruined himself."

"So why would he change his name to a giant wolf?" Scott inquired. Stiles sighed.

"Probably because he still believes," he suggested, looking carefully between Scott and me. Scott nodded in acceptance.

"Okay, so what makes you so sure that he's got a cure?" I asked, turning to Stiles with raised eyebrows. He crumbled slightly.

"W-Well, I'm not," he stammered. "But I've watched like all of this guy's videos, okay? He knows everything that there is to know about werewolves, and I mean everything. Listen to this." He reached back to his phone, pulling up yet another short video, which looked like it'd been shot the same day.

_"Myths like these are propagated across all cultures," _the doctor continued. _"The idea was that you could wear an animal skin and take on the attributes of that animal. Warriors known as berserkers would drape themselves in the pelts of bears, and were seen to fight in uncontrollable, almost trance-like fury. That's where we derive the term 'berserk.' Now, were these berserkers convincing themselves of this animal fury? Or was it actually happening?" _The video ended, Dr. Fenris looking almost longingly out to his audience, silently begging for even just one face to believe him. Stiles let out a deep breath.

"This is the closest thing we got to a certified expert," he said confidently. I pursed my lips.

"You mean except the experienced werewolf we know who has continually saved your asses?" Stiles glared at me, but Scott nodded.

"Derek," he agreed, as if the point hadn't been obvious. Stiles shook his head in disbelief.

"There you go just…mentioning his name again," he complained, though I wasn't sure if the comment was directed at Scott or me. "Wh- I- Okay, do you enjoy hurting me?!"

"A bit," I admitted after considering it for a moment. Stiles returned to glowering at me.

"Okay, how do we even find this guy?" Scott interrupted. Stiles paused before glancing over his shoulder at the hospital's back door. At that exact moment, the doors swung open, and though he was pretty far away, I was certain that it was Dr. Fenris who had stepped out of the building.

"I already did," Stiles confirmed. I rolled my eyes as the two boys stared the doctor down, watching him walk down the steps and towards the parking lot.

"You know that this is like the creepiest thing ever, right?" I whispered.

"Ok- W-Well do you want to cure Scott or not?" Stiles hissed back.

"Of course I do," I sighed. "But-!"

"Sh!" Stiles held his arm up against Scott's chest, stopping him from making any advances and motioning for me to stay silent. We waited until Dr. Fenris had passed the car before Stiles tugged at my shirtsleeve. "Come on!"

Casually as we could, we began following the doctor down the row of cars, farther into the parking lot. I tucked my thumbs through my belt loops, attempting to look as non-threatening as possible, seeing as our terrible plan would probably looked like an assault-in-progress to any passersby. The doctor seemed to think the same when he heard our footsteps, glancing behind him and spotting us.

"I think he saw us," Scott hissed nervously.

"Saw what?" Stiles replied calmly, keeping his eyes trained on Dr. Fenris's back. He glanced over his shoulder a second time, before turning forward and ducking his head a bit.

"I think he thinks we're following him," Scott whispered.

"We are following him," I reminded him quietly.

"No, he doesn't," Stiles assured him, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Well he's walking faster!" Scott pointed out as the doctor picked up his pace.

"No he's not!" Stiles argued, though we began to move a little quicker as well.

"Okay, we're definitely walking faster," Scott noticed.

"Well that's because he's walking faster," Stiles replied, and I rolled my eyes. The doctor shot another glance behind him, checking to see if the three shady teenagers were still in pursuit of him.

"He probably thinks we're gonna mug him!" Scott whined.

"We're not gonna mug him," Stiles disputed. "We're just gonna talk to him."

"I think he thinks we're gonna mug him!" Scott asserted.

"Why would he think that? We don't look like we're gonna mug him. We have a girl!" I glared at Stiles as we continued to speed-walk through the parking lot.

"Excuse me, girls can be every bit as criminal as boys can." Stiles rolled his eyes.

"Look, if he thought we were gonna mug him then he would be…running…" Stiles threw up a hand to gesture to the doctor, only for all three of us to notice that he was in fact now sprinting towards his vehicle. We stopped walking. "Ugh, get him."

"What?! No!" I protested, but neither boy listened. Stiles and Scott sprinted after the doctor, catching up to him with surprising ease. "Guys! Stop!" I watched in horror as the boys drew level with him, launching themselves at the doctor and sending all three of them toppling to the ground. I rested a hand on my forehead. "Oh, for God's sake…" I groaned, before peeling after them and attempting to rip the boys off the doctor.

"Take it!" Dr. Fenris was crying as he tossed his keys at Scott's feet. "The car! The wallet! Take everything! Just don't hurt me!"

"No, no, no, no, no!" Stiles protested, waving his hands in front of him as I yanked him to his feet. "No, it's okay. It's okay. We're not gonna hurt you!" Stiles paused, glancing at the bleeding abrasion on the heel of the doctor's palm. "…again…" he added. I rolled my eyes, pushing past him.

"Are you alright, sir?" I asked, kneeling down next to him. He stared up at me warily, and when I tried to reach for his injured hand, he jerked it back, holding it close to his chest. I sighed, deciding it would be better to not pursue the matter. "I am so, so unbelievably sorry for this. They don't mean any harm, but they hardly ever listen to reason." Stiles held up his hands, looking offended, but Scott spoke up, cutting off any objections.

"W-We—We're sorry! We just wanted to talk to you for a few minutes!"

"About what?!" Dr. Fenris roared. I gave Stiles and Scott a hard look, one that clearly read _"you two have done enough please let me do the talking."_

"Well…" I started, attempting to find some delicate way to broach the subject. "We were hoping you might talk to us about your last name for a bit."

"Fenris?" he repeated, raising his eyebrows in conclusion. Clearly, the doctor couldn't see any reason his last name would be important enough to warrant him being tackled in the parking lot.

"Actually, we were hoping you'd talk a bit about Haymberland," Stiles corrected. The doctor froze, and I turned around to glare at Stiles full force. He chuckled nervously, stuffing his hands back in his pockets and shuffling backward.

"Wh-? How did you…?" the doctor spluttered from the tarmac, and I quickly spun back to try and remedy the situation.

"I'm so sorry, sir. I promise you, we're not here to ridicule you or expose you in any way. My _friend_ here," I paused to throw another glare at Stiles, who waved sheepishly, "happened to find your videos online and we were hoping you'd have a moment to tell us about what you know." Dr. Fenris stared up at me for a few seconds, emotions flickering rapidly across his face before it finally turned cold.

"No."

"No?" Stiles repeated in a high voice. The doctor began to get up, and though I moved to help him, he batted me away.

"I don't generally discuss that…unfortunate portion of my career." Dr. Fenris unlocked his car, eyeing us warily, as if he still half expected us to snatch up his keys and bolt.

"But this isn't a general discussion," I pleaded. "We're not here to report on anything or-or to tell anyone what you know. We're just curious. Like _very_ curious." The man simply shook his head, popping the trunk open and dropping his briefcase inside.

"Just a few questions, please?" Scott tried.

"I'm sorry, but no." The doctor slammed the trunk closed before turning to look at us. "I don't talk about that anymore."

"Please, it won't take long at all," Scott begged, and the man looked down to fiddle morosely with his keys. "Just a few questions…"

"I said no," Dr. Fenris repeated firmly, looking up once more. He eyed each of us in turn, and then with nothing more than a slight nod, he climbed in his car and drove away. I smacked both Stiles and Scott on the back of the head.

"Way to go, morons!" I sighed.

"What now?" Scott asked, turning to Stiles as he caressed his chin thoughtfully. He widened his eyes a bit, letting out a long, low breath.

"Plan B." Scott and I shared a worried look.

"Am I gonna regret Plan B?" Scott asked, sounding more resigned than nervous. Stiles gave a small, nervous grin as he looked back between the two of us.

"Only if we get caught." I groaned, letting my head fall back, and Stiles patted me reassuringly on the shoulder. "Okay, everyone back to the Jeep."

No matter how many times I asked, Stiles refused to tell us where we were going. I had a terrible suspicion in my stomach, but I tried to reassure myself that Stiles would never stoop that low. Unfortunately, when we slowed to a stop in residential Beacon Hills, across the street from a house where a very familiar silver car was parked, my suspicions were confirmed.

"Stiles!" I hissed. "We are not harassing this guy in his house! How did you even find out where he lived?!"

"Because I'm good at what I do," he replied smoothly, grinning at me over his shoulder. I remained un-amused. "Relax, Sadie, we're not harassing him. If everything goes according to plan…"

"Which it almost never does," Scott interjected, but Stiles ignored him.

"…the guy will never know we were here."

"Great," I replied, trying to get more comfortable in the back. "So we're just breaking and entering."

"I'm hoping we can just enter," Stiles replied, staring at the house warily. "I'd prefer not to break anything."

We sat in solemn silence for a several minutes, Stiles tapping on the steering wheel, Scott checking his phone, and me twiddling my thumbs in the back seat. A long while later, long enough that my ass was going numb at least, Stiles reached back and shoved my head down to the floor.

"Ow!" I yelped, only to be shushed. I heard the boys scrambling to sink in their seats, and reluctantly pressed myself to the floor as well. I held my breath, listening for the quiet sounds of the car across the street starting up, pulling out of the driveway, and cruising down the street into the night. Stiles poked his head up first, peering through the back window to check if the coast was clear.

"Okay, come on," he whispered. I waited for the boys to climb out of the car before scrambling over the seats. Stiles leant me a hand, helping me out of the front door of the Jeep as Scott walked around the front to meet us. The pale boy looked around skittishly, locking the car and then motioning for Scott and I to follow him over to the property across the street. Quietly as we could, we eased the gate of the fence open, piling into the backyard. I paused to shut it gently behind us while my two friends ventured further into the yard.

"This is a bad idea," Scott whispered, and I tapped the wood of the fence lightly before jogging over to him.

"You say that about all of my ideas," Stiles observed, creeping up onto the back porch.

"That's because they're all bad ideas," Scott replied, and I gave a quiet snort of agreement.

"Well you learn more from failures than successes," Stiles retorted, giving us a double thumbs up before turning back to the porch.

"You must be a genius by now," Scott commented slyly. My hand clapped over my mouth as Stiles slowly turned around, trying to contain my giggle as he laughed wryly. Scott chuckled, and it took a few seconds for him to realize that his friend was not actually amused by his comment. I smacked him lightly on the chest, and his smile dropped. "Okay." Back to business, Scott and I followed Stiles up the stairs to the back porch. He rattled the handle of the back door slightly, but to no avail.

"Well, so much for just entering," I groaned. Stiles paused, peering through the glass panes at the kitchen on the other side before glancing over at Scott and me. Making a quick decision, Stiles began to peel off his button down shirt. My eyes dropped from his caramel ones to the slightly straining white T-shirt, and I swallowed, praying for my heartbeat to stay steady. If it didn't, Scott made no motion to point it out, which was nice of him considering the situation. Instead, he raised his eyebrows at his best friend.

"Are you sure about that?" he asked, as Stiles wrapped the fabric around his fist.

"Yeah, it's just glass," Stiles assured him, eyes flitting toward Scott for a moment before looking back at me. "If Jackson can do it, I can." I thought back to Jackson breaking through the glass of the chemical closet at school. Of course this would be part of some testosterone competition. Unfortunately, when Jackson had broken into the closet at school, he'd used his elbow, which was covered in leather, a lot more solid than Stiles's fist bound in cotton. However, before I could point this out to him, Stiles had already wound up and leapt forward, ramming his hand into the unyielding glass with a loud and painful thump. He squealed, hugging his arm to his chest and staggering back to the edge of the porch. "Oh! Son of a mother freaking…ah!" I shook my head at him, dashing over to rub his shoulder as he practically convulsed with pain.

"God, Stiles," I reprimanded, easing his arm away from him so I could take the shirt off his hand. "You're supposed to lead with your elbow, not your knuckles. You could've broken your hand!" I could hear Scott snickering behind me as Stiles tried to steady his breathing.

"And what did we learn from that failure?" Scott taunted. I smirked, and Stiles laughed sarcastically again.

"Ah ha ha, that's funny. Wolf's got jokes tonight. That's good." I shook out Stiles's shirt, helping him slide his injured arm back in the sleeves.

"How about we just leave the breaking part to the resident werewolf with super-strength and healing powers, huh?" I suggested, smoothing the shirt over Stiles's shoulders before forcing myself to lower my hands.

"Yeah, okay, point taken," he agreed. Stiles glanced back at the door once before leaning over the banister and trying to get a look at the second floor. "Okay…Alright, if I can…I think if I could climb up here…It seems sturdy enough, so I think I could get up, and if you…"

"Oh, hey," Scott interrupted. Stiles and I both turned around, to Scott with his hand held out, a set of spare keys in his palm and the doormat curled over at his feet. I grinned, and Scott smiled proudly.

"I like that plan," I said, brandishing a finger at Scott while Stiles adjusted his collar. "That might work."

"Uh, yeah. Good find, buddy," Stiles agreed, snatching the keys from his hand and unlocking the door.

"Thanks," Scott muttered. Quietly as possible, we all followed Stiles into the kitchen. Scott gestured for me to go first, and I wandered up to the fridge, which was covered in notes and magnets, as he shut the door behind us. "Okay, what are we looking for?"

"In one of the videos he talked about doing years of research," Stiles explained quietly. "Okay, so there's gotta be books, journals, photos, something." I inspected all of the papers taped to the fridge, though they were all appointments and grocery lists, held up by thin dinosaur magnets. Nothing really of interest. There was, however, one large magnet that stood out, a large wolf head on the upper right. I paused, looking closely at the carefully carved hairs, bristling mid howl, and bright blue eyes staring up at the moon.

"We're not just gonna steal them, are we?" Scott asked behind me, as I let my fingers graze over the magnet.

"No," Stiles's voice assured him. "We're just gonna get what we need, and I'm gonna grab 'em on my phone."

"Good plan," a third voice said, causing my head to snap up, looking down at the other end of the kitchen where Stiles was playing with his phone.

"Thank you," he replied, before realizing it was not Scott who'd spoken. His head turned to the left, and I saw his eyes go wide with shock. There was a soft click.

"Stiles?" I asked, my voice coming out thin and frightened. Wide, terrified eyes flickered over to me before glancing back to the hallway on his left.

"Get out! Get out of my house right now!" Dr. Fenris's voice ordered, and Stiles quickly scrambled over to Scott and I by the back door. I grabbed at his arm, tugging him close as the doctor rounded the corner wielding a gun, which was currently pointed straight at us. I froze, as Stiles quickly slipped his hand into mine.

"Uh, absolutely," he agreed, eyeing the barrel of the gun, and tugged me towards the door. I was right behind him, but Scott held an arm out, pulling us both back.

"Just…five minutes, please," Scott pleaded, while Stiles and I both put our hands up in the air. "Just a few questions?"

"If you cannot see the gun in my hand, I can recommend a good eye doctor," Fenris replied. "Otherwise, get out of my house or I will shoot you."

"Just five minutes," Scott repeated. "We—We—We would not do this unless we had a really good reason."

"I changed my name to get away from nutjobs like you who think this crap is real!" the doctor yelled, adjusting his grip on the firearm and making my subconsciously inch back towards Stiles.

"Wait, so you don't believe it?" Scott asked, unbelievably calm, probably because him getting shot wouldn't be fatal.

"Of course not," Dr. Fenris replied.

"Then why'd you change your name to Fenris?" Scott countered. The doctor cocked his head to the side, clearly caught off guard that we'd guessed the significance.

"I was actually the one who figured that out," Stiles threw in, pointing to the doctor briefly over my right shoulder. "Just F.Y.I., uh…"

"I…I think you believe it," Scott continued. "I don't think you're going to shoot us."

"How do you know that?" Dr. Fenris asked, shifting the gun slightly forward.

"Because of her!" Stiles tried, clapping his hands on my shoulders and pulling me squarely in front of his chest. "You wouldn't shoot a girl, right?"

"If he doesn't, I might shoot you," I growled at him over my shoulder. The doctor looked unimpressed.

"You're a doctor," Scott attempted again. "Don't doctors take an oath? 'Do no harm'?" Fenris froze for a moment before reluctantly lowering the gun.

"God, I hate that oath," he growled, while the three of us heaved a sigh of relief.

"Please, sir," I begged, inching forward as far as Stiles's grip would allow. "I know that this has all been stupid but…we just want to find out what you know."

"Five minutes," Scott piped again. Fenris considered us before gently clicking the safety back on the gun and placing it on the kitchen counter.

"Fine. Only five minutes." My face broke into a small smile, and Stiles's hands relaxed on my shoulders. "My research is in here." Grudgingly, Dr. Fenris led the way through the kitchen into the living room. I walked forward first, pausing after a few steps to spin around and slug Stiles in the shoulder.

"Ow!" he groaned, gripping it with his good hand. I glared unsympathetically.

"That's for this entire stupid night and getting yourself held at gunpoint. Next time you need a human shield, why don't you try your best friend with healing powers?" I growled. Scott smirked while Stiles gaped like a fish, and I spun on my heel storming into the living room.

If we'd made it into this room earlier, it would have been obvious that Dr. Fenris was still a believer. Old, damaged papers were hung all over the walls, with ancient texts, notes and intricate pictures. The couch and coffee table were practically buried under stacks of books, and even more loose pages. And all of this was just what was visible, not counting the several filing cabinets and book shelves that had also been stuffed into the room. I carefully made my way across to a solitary armchair, picking up the huge, heavy book lying in it and placing it instead in my lap as I perched myself on the cushion. Stiles glanced at me guiltily, pulling a volume from the table closer to him before ducking his head.

"What exactly do you kids want to know?" Dr. Fenris asked tiredly. Stiles opened his mouth, but Scott elbowed him gently to keep him quietly. He looked over at me earnestly, gesturing for me to speak first.

"Uh, well," I started, glancing up from the beautifully illuminated book in my lap. "When did you first start believing in werewolves?" The doctor sighed.

"I was living in Wisconsin," he began, carefully walking over to one of the many filing cabinets. "A woman was rushed into my ER, unconscious. I was told it was a hunting accident. That an arrow intended for a white-tailed deer hit her instead. I removed the arrow and she woke up. Thirty minutes later, the wound was gone." He paused in his search through the drawers to look over at us. Stiles glanced up from his book.

"You mean healed," he suggested quietly, making the doctor nod slightly as he looked into the distance, lost in his memories.

"As if it never happened." He finally found what he was looking for, pulling out a beat up file before standing and walking back over to us. "I learned two things that day. That there are some people in this world who heal with an ability that science can't explain. Imagine what that means to someone who's dedicated his life to healing. It's like catching a glimpse of the Holy Grail." I smiled warmly at his sincerity, and Fenris's lips tugged up slightly as well.

"What was the second thing?" Scott asked, staring up at him with interest. The smile dropped off the man's face.

"There are also some people in this world who want to kill them," he replied, staring down at the contents of his folder and shuffling the papers slightly. "You wanna guess why they use an arrow?" Stiles laid his book back on the table, tugging a loose sketch closer to him instead.

"She wouldn't heal until it was taken out," he explained, glancing up at the doctor seriously. He nodded.

"They also cut them in half. Sever the body, there's no way it will heal."

"Hemicorporectomy," I added, causing all everyone to look at me in surprise. "What?"

"Exactly," Dr. Fenris agreed, nodding at me with his eyebrows slightly furrowed.

"Why did they want them dead?" Scott asked, turning his curiosity from me to the expert. Dr. Fenris shrugged slightly.

"Fear of the unknown," he explained. "Fear of something more powerful than yourself. But…I can't imagine why anyone would be afraid of someone like this." The doctor reached in the folder, casually caressing the side of the top piece of paper. "I spent five years looking for her. Found her here in Beacon Hills, and then she disappeared. All I found was this photograph of her and a young man, probably her son." He tossed the large, black and white photo onto the table, causing all three of us to lean forward in our seats.

The woman was beautiful, clad in a tank top with her dark hair pulled back. For some reason, her face hadn't been obscured by lens flare, perhaps because she was not looking into the camera. She was smiling happily, looking out of the frame at someone on her right. I wondered briefly why she had disappeared. More likely than not, it had been a hunter attack. However, a completely new possibility struck me when my eyes glanced to the boy in the corner of the picture. He was lounging on a couch, wearing a smile that looked odd but wonderful on his face, likely laughing at someone out of the frame. He looked around our age, maybe a little older, but I easily recognized the dark hair, sharp eyes, and handsome face. The boy in the photograph was Derek Hale.

I had to physically repress my gasp, firmly clenching my jaw shut as I stared down at his young face. He looked so much happier than I'd ever seen him. Actual happiness, not the dazzling-yet-fake smile he'd plastered on when he greeted Allison and I at the party, or when he'd visited me at work. The only glimpse I'd seen of this Derek was the miniscule smirk he'd given me outside the school the night of the attack. In comparison to the photo, that smirk had been the feeblest, most pathetic display of amusement ever. And yet, it was the happiest I'd ever seen him in person. Part of me wanted to snatch up the photo, to get a better look, to get a copy, to keep it, but I knew I couldn't. Revealing that we knew Derek would raise too many questions, peak the doctor's interest. He might start asking about Derek's abilities, or ask to speak to him. Or maybe he had heard that Derek was a wanted murderer and would suspect that we were his accomplices. Somehow, I couldn't see him being talked out of using the gun again. And so I bit my tongue, and forced myself to lean back in my chair, eyes still glued to Derek's happy face.

Scott was glancing at me again, searching for the next best question to ask, but I was still looking down the page. Stiles seemed to notice, his eyes flickering between my own and the blurry ones in the photo. He cleared his throat.

"So that's what got you interested in the myths," he said vaguely, prompting the doctor to go on. Dr. Fenris nodded.

"I started doing all kinds of research on healing mythology. Human incarnations of phoenixes, ancient healing rituals that called on the power of animal spirits, and that's how I discovered the werewolves. There'd been a few unexplainable animal attacks in the past, so at the time it wasn't a hard idea to swallow." I shared a knowing look with Stiles and Scott as the doctor walked back around the couch, taking his phone out of his pocket and opening his laptop. "When I connected the woman to the werewolf myth, I found that there were differences between those born and those bitten. Those families who were born into it, were said to have a ritual every year, on the Wolf Moon."

"The what moon?" Scott repeated, face screwing up in confusion.

"Native Americans gave every full moon a name," Stiles explained, running a hand over his head out of habit, even though he was still wearing the hat. "February's the Ice Moon…"

"Snow Moon," I corrected softly, "and the Worm Moon in March." Scott nodded while Stiles pulled a face at me.

"Smarty pants…" he grumbled, making me smirk.

"They call January the Wolf Moon," the doctor continued, now rummaging through his desk drawers in search of something else, "because hungry wolves would howl outside the villages in midwinter."

"What was the ritual?" Stiles asked, turning over his left shoulder to watch the expert's search.

"It's like a family reunion," Fenris elaborated without looking at us. My heart tightened slightly as I thought about just how little family Derek had left. "They would get together and form rights of passage. They would draw power from one another. Supposedly they were stronger together in packs. The alpha, the beta, and the omega, the lowest of the wolves, they all…each contributed to the strength of the pack. They each…damnit!" I jumped slightly as the doctor suddenly forwent his search, slamming his hand on the desk in frustration. Stiles and Scott raised their eyebrows, turning around to look at the man warily.

"Are you okay?"

"My house keeper doesn't want me to smoke, so she's hiding my cigarettes," he explained in despair. Stiles snickered.

"You're a doctor and you smoke cigarettes?" I leaned forward and smacked him on the chest, causing him to wince. Dr. Fenris turned around in annoyance, hands on his hips.

"You know, I think your five minutes is about up," he growled. Stiles nodded reluctantly, accepting that he probably deserved the quick dismissal and moving to get up.

"Okay, uh I know…just um…one more question, please," Scott started, turning around in his seat. Fenris raised his eyebrows. "Is there a cure?"

"For what?" the expert asked in exasperation.

"Well you said there—there were differences between werewolves who were bit…C-Can he…? O-Or her, uh, o-o-or whoever it may be…can they be cured?"

"Yes," the doctor said firmly, causing all three of us to wheel around in astonishment. "Cut them in half. Death cures all ailments." Scott, Stiles and I all deflated in unison, crushed to have that flicker of hope taken away. "Look, I'm sorry," Dr. Fenris continued when he spotted our downtrodden expressions. "I've researched this for fifteen years. I've never heard of a cure. Really, why are you so interested in this? It's just a myth! It's a legend!"

"You sure about that?" Stiles countered bitterly, glancing over his shoulder.

"I am beyond sure," the man replied, borderline seething. "I have the certainty of someone who has completely and totally destroyed his personal and his professional reputation for some idiotic obsession! Do you have any idea what it's like to know that you have ruined your life?!" he demanded. All three of our heads sank down, looking at the ground rather than the damaged doctor as he lectured us about his pain. "It's one thing to blame others, but it's another when you did it to yourself." He paused, observing us for another split second before turning back to his desk. "God, I could use a cigarette," he grumbled. "Your five minutes are up!" Stiles and I both glanced toward Scott, checking to see if he had any more questions he needed to ask. However, Scott simply gave a microscopic nod. Stiles and I got up first, heading solemnly for the front door. Dr. Fenris stormed ahead of us, throwing the door open and waving us onto the front porch. I attempted a smile.

"Thank you for your time, Dr. Fenris," I said politely as possible, stepping out of the house. He nodded tersely.

"Next time you need to ask questions about your little fixation," he replied, turning mainly to Scott and Stiles, "I suggest you skip the breaking and entering and assault and ask your friend instead." He nodded slightly towards me, causing my jaw to drop just a bit. I ducked my head as Stiles and Scott turned to look at me. "The girl knows her stuff."

"Yeah, will do, sir," Stiles agreed, hopping down the front steps.

"Enjoy the rest of your night," I called over my shoulder, jogging down the steps and following Stiles across the street to the Jeep.

"You punched me really hard, you know," he offered, rubbing at his shoulder again. I rolled my eyes with a smirk.

"Good. You're not getting an apology. Actually," I replied as he unlocked the door, "I'm still waiting for mine." Stiles sighed, eyes darting over my expectant face and crossed arms.

"Sadie, I'm sorry that I dragged you out tonight, made you trespass into a guy's house and used you as a buffer between my fragile little body and a loaded gun. Could you ever forgive me?" He finished the apology with sarcasm seeping out of every word, and I pursed my lips.

"Not with an attitude like that, Stilinski," I shot. Stiles narrowed his eyes, opening the front door of the Jeep and sweeping me inside.

"Just get in the car, Bennet." I glared playfully at him as I passed, taking a little more time to crawl over the seats, rather than my usual mad dash to get my ass out of sight. I resituated myself in the back as Stiles climbed in after me, slamming the door shut and glancing at the front porch, where Scott was still talking to Dr. Fenris. "He was right, though. You know your werewolf stuff."

"It would have been nice to have an expert," I shrugged, leaning my arms on each of the chairs up front. "But seeing as we assaulted him, I don't think he'll be too keen. I think between Golden Wolf, Sour Wolf and two of the smartest humans in Beacon Hills, we'll be able to get by."

"Nah, I still don't trust Sour Wolf," Stiles disagreed, shaking his head, before turning to smile at me. "You're the designated expert."

"Hm," I mused, leaning a little closer and narrowing my eyes. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Stiles." He groaned, smacking his head against the headrest as well as he could with the hat on backwards.

"Okay, okay," he relented. "What do you want for an apology or whatever?"

"Well, you can start," I whispered, leaning just a tad closer even though it made my stomach do somersaults and Stiles was still facing forward, "by giving me your hat." Without waiting for consent, I flipped the brown cap off his head, snatching it up and leaning far enough back that he couldn't reach me. He did try to grab for it, but I simply jammed it on my head, backwards as he had done, right over my headband. He rolled his eyes as I giggled, slumping back into the seat.

"You're ridiculous," he grumbled, facing forward, making my stomach lurch as I tried to decide if that had been a bad move. However, before I could give it back to him, Scott opened the passenger door, hopping into the seat.

"Okay, let's get out of here now," Scott said, slightly breathless but smiling.

"What else could you have done?" I asked. Scott did a slight double take when he glanced back, his smile growing a little wider when he spotted the hat.

"I just gave him some hope," he replied with a shrug. I smiled at his genuine kindness, though Stiles seemed less touch.

"Whatever that means," he muttered. "Let's get out of here before he decides to call the cops." Stiles drove away, and I watched Dr. Fenris's house out the back window. Just before we rounded the corner, I saw the man sprint out of his house, something in hand, and look around. He stared down the street after us, and in a few seconds, he was gone.

Stiles and I dropped Scott off at his house first, simply out of convenience, and when Stiles pulled up to my house, I hopped out of the Jeep and dashed inside before he could remember to ask for his hat back. I grinned to myself all the way up to my room, avoiding actually seeing my mother face to face so she wouldn't ask about my new headgear, but calling out to let her know I was home safe. Unfortunately, the smile slid off my face as soon as I walked into my room.

Two steps in I was grabbed from behind, yanked momentarily off my feet with a large hand planted firmly over my mouth. I let out a muffled scream, kicking my attacker's shin, but only earning a soft grunt in response. The lights were flicked on, and I was silently spun around to come face to face with a chest clad in black. I scrambled back, looking up to meet the pale green eyes of Derek Hale.

"D-Derek?! What the hell?!" I spat, as soon as he deemed me calm enough to lower his hand. The elder werewolf didn't respond, taking a step back from me, his face completely passive. I glared at him, opening my door and glancing in both directions before I shut it again. I turned back and paused for a moment, completely at a loss for what to say. Derek glanced at the hat on my head, cocking an eyebrow. I quickly whipped it off my head, holding it tightly in one hand as I fixed my hair. "What the hell are you doing here?" I finally rounded on him. Derek casually stuck his hands into the pockets of his trademark leather jacket.

"I wanted to let you know I was okay," he replied calmly. For some reason, this infuriated me.

"Oh well thank you," I growled sarcastically. "But I've known you were supposedly okay for over a week. You turned up to chill with Scott ages ago." I couldn't quite understand why this upset me so much. Most likely, it was because I had seemed to trust Derek the most, and out of our team of three I was definitely the most worried about him. Despite this fact, and for pretty obvious reasons, Derek had revealed himself to Scott first. Derek seemed to sense it was bothering me, since he continued.

"You live in a house with three other people," he commented dryly. "You're not exactly the easiest person to drop in on."

"You were at Scott's house," I pointed out in annoyance.

"At night," he countered. "When his mom was working at the hospital. Your mother, on the other hand, never seems to leave the house."

"Have you been staking out my house?" I asked, narrowing my eyes again. Derek simply shrugged, clearly unashamed.

"I wanted to let you know I was fine."

"You did," I replied, crossing my arms over my chest. "I got your note. So what's up with the personal visit?" Derek paused, watching me for a moment. After several seconds of consideration, he seemed to have an answer.

"I got a call from Scott saying he was going to help me find the Alpha," Derek explained, glancing nonchalantly around my room, which seemed extra purple with Derek's brooding mass of black inside. "I figured I had you to thank."

"Not really," I replied, walking a little further into the room. "If you really want to express your gratitude, I'd pay a visit to Dr. Conrad Fenris."

"Fenris?" Derek repeated, cocking an eyebrow. I nodded.

"The boys weren't exactly ready to trust you, so they went looking for answers elsewhere. When they didn't find them, we agreed that we had to rely on our next best resource."

"Resource?" Derek echoed once more. I shrugged.

"Well, what else would you consider yourself?" I asked moodily. "Friends don't generally fake their deaths to other friends."

"I was impaled through the chest," Derek objected in annoyance. "A wound like that doesn't heal in just a day or two."

"Well a phone call might have been nice," I replied.

"I don't have your number," Derek dismissed.

"You have Scott's," I countered, pursing my lips.

"Who had just turned me in to the police under false charges," Derek argued, glaring. However, I managed not to back down, keeping my arms crossed against my chest and the challenging stare on my face. I thought he might come up with another excuse, but instead he heaved a large sigh and turned to walk to my desk. He flipped one of the random notebooks on my desk open to a blank page, and snatched up by favorite pen.

As he was leaned over the desk scratching away, it struck me just how odd it was to see Derek in my room. With Stiles and Scott it had been less strange. Sure, they were boys, but they were normal high school boys. Or at least, Stiles was, and for a short period of time that's what I thought Scott was. Even now, it was very easy for me to forget that he was a werewolf in lacrosse pads. But with Derek, it was different. I had found him suspicious and slightly intimidating since I met him, and he always seemed to have that air of mystery and danger. I still trusted him, but Derek had always seemed…not exactly less safe, but more wild. Seeing him in a teenage girl's room—with pale purple walls, my unorganized CD collection, movie posters, vanity full of makeup, and my jar of funky pens sitting not six inches from his hand—was slightly comical. It was a bit like seeing a Rottweiler dressed up in a pastel sweater, or a Joker action figure that was dragged to a six-year-old's tea party.

Finally, he stood up, ripping the page out of my notebook, folding it in half, and holding it up for me to see. He raised his eyebrows pointedly, placing the page on top of my laptop, almost exactly where he'd left his previous note.

"Well now you have my number," he informed me. I glanced from his face to the page once or twice, but all I seemed to be able to do was nod. "Thank you for agreeing to help. I'll be sure to try and be more communicative if I'm dying in the future." He narrowed his eyes slightly as the sentence ended, as if that was his attempt at an actual goodbye. I couldn't find my voice until he'd already opened the window.

"Derek, wait." He paused, glancing curiously over his shoulder at me, hands on the windowpane as he poised himself to leap out. "I…I'm sorry about your family…" Derek's face darkened almost instantly. He dropped his eyes, and for a moment I thought he was glaring at the carpet. Then I noticed he was eyeing the wolfsbane painted ironically on my walls, as if they were the real cause of all his problems. "Dr. Fenris said that he knew her," I offered into the silence. "Uh, your mom…Well, kind of. He—He said he knew this woman and then he showed us a picture and I recognized you in the background laughing and… She was really beautiful…" Derek didn't move. He continued glowering at the moldings of my wall, and even though he was clad in leather, I felt like I could see his back muscles tensing in rage. I imagined if he were an actual wolf, the hair along his back would visibly be bristling with anger. "Sorry…" I muttered lamely. "…I'm glad you're okay…" There was a long silence, and I remained as motionless as Derek, afraid to make the tiniest movement in case he freaked out. Finally, his head looked back up, staring straight out the window.

"Goodnight, Sadie." And then, he rocked back once and launched himself out of the window. Out of habit, I sprinted after him, watching as the leather jacket disappeared into the darkness behind the shed. I sighed, running a hand through my hair.

"Night, Derek," I sighed, knowing he could still hear me. And then, wishing I'd never said anything at all, I closed the window.

* * *

**A/N: So, I'm sorry that this is a day late. I got caught up in house chores, recreational painting and reading City of Ashes. But it's up now! Before anyone gets too excited or impressed, this isn't all my own work. It's extrapolated from a mini episode called "Search for a Cure" which you can find in 6 parts on the MTV website. I really enjoyed it, since it's so informative about werewolves in a lot of ways you don't see during the season. I did a bit of research to cross reference the things they said in the episode, and Sadie made the corrections I thought needed to be changed. But werewolf reseach is fun! Wooh!**

**Thank you, as usual to all my wonderful favoriters, followers and reviewers. It was great to hear back from so many of you guys about the Halloween chapter, and I'm glad you enjoyed it as much as I did! So thank you to LionHeartMisfit, Lucy Greenhill, bbymojo, SuperDuperLights, A Cool Guest, Krisseh, LifeToDeath, GetsueiNoYume, LynZann, DetectiveKateTodd, CypherToorima, Guest, wordsh4ker, TameTheGhosts, ScornedxRose, Kelly1432, vanillaclouds101, xALFiex, MS. QUEEN21, iwill. youwill. wewill.3, becca1130, Seasidh, smilesrippedattheseams, masqueraderose3, V. Dino, E, KageNoUta27, Skittleslover3, 5daysofsummer, xxxxninaxxxx, ellisbellisballs, Isaac fan (Ah! You are the first to have a very important realization! But I'm not going to tell you what it is. :D But I'm silently glad that you took notice of it. I hope you enjoyed the Derek at the end of this.), cambostar, and Lojo2014o.**

**Also, a quick thank you shout out to TameTheGhosts for messaging me about the little Wild Side AU she was thinking of. [Dude, it would be so easy to ship Lydie romantically? Like, just imagine an assassins/spies/whatever au where Allison's an archer (hawkeye?), then Sadie gets even better at shoot so she's the gun woman, then Lydia becomes like the Q of their team. so one day enemy agents kidnap them all into a Super Evil Abandoned Warehouse and Lydie are both like "I love you, I thought you were gonna die, let's make out!" So they do exactly that, while Allison's making dying whale noises in the background and is all like "Stop sucking face, we are literaLLY TIED UP."]] This made my morning. Thank you.**

**Don't forget to check out snippets and visuals on the tumblr page, and please keep letting me know what you think! Muah!**

**-Brittney**


	23. Chapter 23

_"Oh my God, we're gonna die!"_

"Stiles!" I screamed. "Shut up!" I pulled hard on the steering wheel, sending the Camaro flying around a sharp corner at least 75 MPH. Even with the risky twists and turns, Kate's green Kia was still on our tail. I glanced in the rearview mirror, almost able to make out her light brown hair and determined face.

"Sadie!" Scott cried. My eyes flashed back to the road and flew wide as I realized how quickly the end of the street was coming up. I yanked on the steering wheel, wincing at the high-pitched squeal the tires made as we skidded.

"Whoopsie," I breathed casually, slamming my foot on the gas once more. Scott was pressed back into his chair, holding on to the handgrip in the ceiling for dear life.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, oh my God," he was chanting, looking as if he were about to burst into tears.

"Why the hell did we let her drive?!" Stiles exclaimed from the backseat. I smirked as I pulled onto a straighter road, able to accelerate without worrying about turns for a few seconds.

"Because Derek doesn't trust you two with the Camaro," I explained happily, grinning devilishly at the road. Scott made the very, very poor decision to glance at the speedometer.

"Oh my God, Sadie please slow down!" he cried, and I was fairly certain he _was_ crying at that point.

"Can't do that, Scott," I replied, narrowing my eyes at the road in concentration.

"We're gonna die," he whimpered, glancing at the number again, which was steadily climbing higher. "I don't want to die!"

"Scott, I don't think you understand the concept of a car chase," I said evenly.

"You're gonna kill us!" he squealed, momentarily freeing one hand to brandish a finger at the speedometer, before latching back onto the arm rest with white knuckles.

"Look, I wish we hadn't let her drive too," Stiles yelped from the back seat, sliding back and forth as the car turned. "But if we go any slower, they're gonna kill us." He gestured back to Kate's car, and I thought fleetingly that it'd be a shame for her to find out I was driving Derek's car after she, Allison and I had had such a wonderful lunch the day before. Kate had even given me my own taser gun, something to keep Allison and I safe while there was still a killer on the loose.

My eyes stayed glued to the road as the chase progressed, trying to lead Kate further and further from Derek so he could do a little bit of investigating in peace. However, I froze when I glanced in the rearview mirror next.

"Woah, woah, woah, where is she?" I asked. Stiles spun around, looking out the back window.

"Huh, they're gone," he informed me, sounding relieved. I slowed the car down slightly, making Scott sag in his chair.

"Oh thank God," he panted, grinning slightly.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "Something's not right. Stiles?" Stiles nodded at me in the mirror, and without further direction whipped out the spare police radio he'd "borrowed" from his father's desk. It beeped once before fizzing to life.

_"All units, suspect is on foot heading into the iron works." _

There was a collective groan as we all realized what must have happened. Derek was caught, and now the hunters knew that it was not actually Derek driving his car.

"Goddamnit," I growled, tightening my fingers on the Camaro's steering wheel. "Okay, hold tight."

"Oh no," Scott complained, but I paid him no attention as my foot slammed on the accelerator once more, sending us lurching into the darkness.

I wasn't quite sure who I found more annoying in that moment: Derek for getting himself caught when we were risking our lives trying to give him some peace, Scott for cowering in the passenger seat and whimpering incessantly under his breath for fear of his life, or Stiles for his outrageously frustrating backseat-driving, which meant that every few seconds he would yell at me to slow down, speed up, make a left turn, no, a _right_ turn, even though I actually knew where I was going. Eventually I ended up lifting a hand to wave him off and smacking him in the face. It'd been an accident, but it was effective in getting him to stop talking.

"Scott!" I yelled a few minutes later, as we raced through the old abandoned buildings. "Wolf hearing! Tell me where he is!" Scott tore his eyes from the dashboard, ramming them shut as he tried to concentrate on Derek's location.

"Uh, uh make a right!" he instructed.

"This right?"

"Yeah!" I pulled hard on the steering wheel, making the back end of the Camaro fishtail slightly as I fought to get the car down a small alley. I saw a burst of white sparks, which I was pretty sure were not emitted from any police-issued weapons.

"Move!" I called, forcing Scott to scramble into the back seat as the car skidded to Derek's side. Scott threw the door open just before we'd come to a full stop. "Derek, get in!" I bellowed. He didn't need telling twice. Derek leapt out of the shadows where he'd been hiding behind a construction machine and jumped into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind him.

"Go!" he screamed, and I stomped on the gas once more. One more second, I realized as the sounds of gunshots reached my ears, and we probably would have been dead. I screamed and Derek's hand on my back forced me to lean forward, ducking as I tried to avoid being shot and navigate our way out of the industrial sector at the same time. When the gunfire finally ceased, I sat up, glancing behind me once before giving all of my attention to the task of getting out without drawing the attention of the police or the hunters.

"What part of laying low don't you understand?" Scott reprimanded from the backseat.

"Damnit!" Derek yelled, banging his hand into the passenger door in frustration. "I had him!"

"Who? The Alpha?" I asked, glancing over at him briefly before skidding down another tight alleyway.

"Yes!" Derek shouted. "He was right in front of me, and the friggin' police showed up!"

"Woah, hey, they're just doing their jobs," Stiles reasoned, poking his head up between the two front seats. Derek glowered at him, causing Stiles to retreat into the backseat. I quickly released the steering wheel to smack Derek on the arm.

"Excuse me, there will be no cop-hate in this vehicle," I informed him.

"It's my vehicle," he growled.

"Which I am currently driving." Derek glared at me for a moment before relenting.

"Fine," he grumbled, changing targets. "Thanks to someone who decided to make me the most wanted fugitive in the _entire state_!" He glared at Scott in the rearview mirror.

"Can we seriously get past that?!" Scott stammered. "I made a dumbass mistake! I get it!"

"Alright!" Stiles interrupted, waving his arms between the two as if he could physically break the building tension. "How did you find him?" he asked Derek. The werewolf didn't respond, glancing around at the three of us and huffing slightly.

"Can you try to trust us for at least half a second?" Scott asked from behind me.

"Yeah, all of us!" Stiles ordered. Derek glared at him again. "Or just Scott and Sadie, that's fine. I'll be back here."

"Derek," I said evenly as Stiles retreated once more. "What do you know?" He glanced at me once before giving in.

"Look, the last time I spoke to my sister she was close to figuring something out. She found two things. The first was a guy named Harris." The car swerved a bit as I turned to look at him, and Stiles sprung forward out of his seat.

"Our chemistry teacher?!" he hissed. Scott's hand on his shoulder forced him back into his seat.

"Why him?" Scott asked.

"I-I don't know yet!" Derek replied.

"Okay, what was the second thing?" I asked. Derek reached into his pocket, pulling out a ripped piece of paper and unfolding it.

"Some kind of symbol," he grumbled. I glanced over to see a familiar image sketched out on the page in Derek's hands. Scott sighed behind me, making Derek's head snap back to look at him. "What?" he demanded. "You know what this is?"

"I've seen it on a necklace," he explained slowly, making me sigh as well as I finally realized what the sketch was.

"Allison's necklace," I breathed, speeding up slightly.

"W-Well that's great!" Stiles exclaimed. "We know where it is! Sadie can just ask to borrow it!"

"No, I can't, Stiles," I dismissed, shaking my head.

"Why not?" he pressed.

"Because it's a family heirloom," I replied. "It'd be like Allison asking to borrow my dog tags." Stiles sagged, nodding knowingly. I'd already told him and Scott about how the tags had belonged to my father. Derek, who didn't know this, seemed confused.

"What? What does that mean?"

"It means Sadie borrowing the necklace is a no-go," Scott said simply.

"Just steal it!" Derek protested, glaring at me in frustration.

"No," Scott interrupted. "I got it."

"Dude," Stiles started, glancing over at his best friend. "I don't mean to be harsh, but in case you haven't noticed, you and Allison aren't exactly on the best terms. At least she talks to Sadie."

"I know," Scott agreed solemnly. "That's why I have to do it."

"I'm sorry," Stiles went on, shaking his head. "Allison's already upset with you, and that means you have to be the one to do something that will make her even angrier at you? I'm not exactly seeing your logic here, buddy."

"Allison can't be mad at Sadie," Scott sighed forlornly. "Not when she's the only one who can keep an eye on her and let me know how she is." Stiles and Derek both rolled their eyes at the sentiment, but I nodded.

"Okay, so Scott gets the necklace from Allison and then we try and figure out what it meant to Laura," I confirmed, nodding a little to myself. I noticed Derek tense at the sound of his sister's name, but no one else seemed to notice the movement.

"Super, can we head home now?" Stiles asked. "I think I've spent enough time endangering my life with Sadie behind the wheel." I smirked, keeping my eyes on the road.

"Sure thing, Stilinski," I assured him, and slammed on the accelerator.

"Uh, Sadie?" Scott prodded from directly behind me. "Home is in the opposite direction."

"I'm aware of that, Scott, but I drive my mother's minivan. I am holding on to this moment for everything that I'm worth."

With that thought, I rolled down the windows, punched on Derek's stereo and whooped as we sped down a deserted back road. Everyone seemed slightly exasperated by my actions, but no one made a move to stop me. Whether that was because they were amused, or because their lives were still firmly in my hands since I was driving, I couldn't be sure. All I was sure of was that I needed to burn off all of the adrenaline from the car chase, and enjoy Derek's sweet ride for as long as I could.

Unfortunately, as they say, nothing gold can stay, and the moment we pulled up to Stiles's house Derek demanded that I get out from behind the wheel of his car for everyone's safety. There'd been a short spat about how I actually was a fairly good driver, but he wouldn't hear any of it. Apparently, my temporary need for speed was enough to warrant a ban from driving the vehicle for the next week, which I figured was a pretty decent punishment seeing as I didn't see myself taking the Camaro out for a spin anyway.

The next morning, I did find myself longing for Derek's sleek black car as I climbed into the front of my mom's minivan. Lydia had already left for school in her Beetle, practically in an angry tirade. I'd gotten up late, and told her to go ahead without me, that I'd just have my mom drop me off. She'd reluctantly stormed out of the house, as if I had made myself late on purpose just to inconvenience her. Though she didn't know it, she was partially correct.

Though I'd been spending a fair amount of time with Stiles and Scott over the past couple weeks, I'd been spending a lot of my time with Lydia, Allison and Jackson as well. I'd promised Lydia I'd keep an eye on her boyfriend, seeing as she was still a little nervous about him showing so much interest in Allison. I'd originally figured the promise would be hard to keep. More likely than not, Jackson would just assume I was trying to spy on him for Lydia and clam up. However, Jackson had been…surprisingly cooperative, almost suspiciously so. I mean, I knew that he was a real boy under all that lacrosse padding and hair gel, but ever since the night at school, Jackson had seemed more than willing to talk to me. And not just our usual banter, but actually talk. He often asked what I'd done when I was hanging out with Stiles and Scott, always maintaining that air that said he didn't really care but was asking to be polite. In return, he told me about his suspicions about the murders and what was really going on in our town. I discovered that Jackson had actually seen the Alpha the night we were locked in the school, though he still didn't know what it really was. I played my part as the typically clueless girl, feigning ignorance and bewilderment when he described the creature that had looked like a man upright, and then like an animal when it walked on all fours.

Even though I'd left out all the confidential details, Lydia seemed concerned by our friendliness, though much less concerned than she was about Jackson spending time with Allison. Regardless, I wasn't complaining. Jackson was a good person to be on good terms with, and being his friend meant that I was also able to keep an eye on the scratches on the back of his neck. I asked about them occasionally, seeing as they showed no signs of healing properly. Jackson had assured me that, physically, the worst he experienced was an occasional stinging sensation. He hadn't suffered from any more episodes like he'd had when we were locked in the school. However, one day I had asked if he was getting enough sleep, and Jackson had confessed that he was frequently waking up from nightmares, mostly concerning a large manor house going up in flames. Obviously, that information had put me on edge. It took a little convincing, but I was finally able to persuade Jackson to let me set up a doctor's appointment for him at the hospital, just to make sure there was nothing seriously wrong. Lydia had tried to make the same appointment several times to no avail, but I marked my success down to two things. One, I'd promised Jackson I wouldn't breath a word to Lydia, so she wouldn't be able to freak out about his possible injury. And two, the most important lacrosse game of the semester was approaching, and Jackson needed to make sure that he was in peak condition so the team would make it to the semi-finals. At this point, he had no choice but to make sure his neck wound was completely harmless.

And so I'd faked getting up late to get Lydia out of the house. I'd already told my mother about the situation, and after a short speech about what a great friend I was, she told me to go ahead and drive Jackson to the hospital. She'd take care of calling the school and letting them know I'd be late. So I quickly grabbed a piece of toast and hopped in the minivan, heading over to Jackson's house.

I'd expected the roads to be pretty deserted. A couple of cars sped past me in the other direction, towards the high school, but there weren't too many people on the road. I raised my eyebrows as I caught sight of a figure on the shoulder, back turned to me as they walked away from the school as well. A dingy grey sweatshirt was pulled over broad shoulders, the hood pulled up over his head to fight off the chill. I saw pale hands gripping tightly to the handlebars of his bike, visibly tightening when he heard my car approaching from behind him. I slowed down marginally, and the sound made him glance back nervously. I grinned, recognizing the few blonde curls peering out from underneath the hood.

"Isaac, hey," I greeted, rolling down the window and pulling to a stop beside him. Isaac Lahey was a particularly quiet boy, but he was one of the first acquaintances I'd made without Lydia's help. He lived across the street from Jackson, and since I'd spent so much of my summer with Lydia at his house, I'd seen Isaac around a few times. I wouldn't really go so far as to call us friends. Isaac was particularly shy, and I knew it must seem strange to him that someone who was friends with Lydia Martin and Jackson Whittemore would talk to him by choice and without motive. That was a shame in my opinion. All of the short conversations I'd had with Isaac showed me that he was a genuinely sweet boy, if a little timid, and I'd started off the year with a silent resolution to get to know him better. Unfortunately, right off the bat I met Allison and was dragged into the whirlwind that was Stiles and Scott and Derek and werewolves. I knew Isaac was in my chemistry class, at the very least, hiding somewhere in the back where Harris couldn't pick on him, and I'd seen him on the lacrosse field a few times for practice. Besides that, however, I realized I'd fallen painfully short on my promise to befriend him.

"Oh uh…hi, Sadie," he greeted. His pale face relaxed slightly when he saw me, as if he'd been expecting a shady serial killer to drive up behind him and snatch him up without warning. He glanced down the road anxiously, and I followed his gaze for a second before turning back to him.

"You mind if I ask what you're doing on the side of the road?" I asked with a grin. I'd learned to keep my voice quiet when I spoke to him, always with a light tone. Otherwise, he'd clam up.

"Um I got caught up at work," he explained. I vaguely remembered some previous conversation in which Isaac had informed me that he worked at the cemetery that his father ran. I'd made some embarrassingly bad joke about the graveyard shift, prompting him to grin and inform me he did in fact work nights. It'd been the first time I'd seen him smile. "I was just on my way back to the house."

"Do you want a lift?" I asked.

"O-Oh, uh n-no thanks, but…"

"I'm headed that way anyway," I assured him. "I'll just throw your bike in the back. You could be late at this rate." Apparently, the thought of being late to first period was convincing enough, because a few seconds later he nodded, pulling his bike farther off the road. I quickly pulled the van onto the shoulder, parking and hopping out. I climbed into the back, opening the side door and helping Isaac lift his dismal set of wheels into the back seat. It took a little twisting, but eventually, we got it to fit, and climbed back into the front of the van. As I pulled back onto the road, another thought occurred to me. "So, why weren't you just riding your bike?" I asked, glancing over at him. He was perched on the edge of the passenger seat, hands clasped in his lap, as if he wanted to touch as little of the car as possible.

"I just, uh…um, I didn't feel like it," he mumbled, staring down at his hands. He tugged at the edges of his sleeves and I quickly reached over to turn the heat up. "Th-Thanks," he muttered, pulling his hood down. His dark blonde curls bounced free, but I was confused for a moment when the shadows didn't leave his face. I did a double take, noticing a light, forming bruise on his left cheek.

"Oh my God, Isaac, are you okay?"

"What?" he asked quickly, turning to look at me.

"Your cheek. It looks like it's bruising," I explained. I reached a hand up but stopped halfway to his face, retracting the limb and settling for motioning to my own cheek. Isaac nodded slightly, clearly appreciative of the lack of contact. He lifted his long, pale fingers, grazing the abrasion and wincing slightly.

"Oh y-yeah, I just… Um, I fell at work so…"

"Do I need to be worried about a zombie apocalypse or something?" I asked with a slight grin. "You weren't being chased, were you?" Isaac let out an airy chuckle.

"N-No, I just tripped. No zombies, promise."

"Good," I said firmly, turning back to the road. "Cause you know, working nights at the cemetery, you'd probably be the first victim. If I ever have any suspicions, I'm coming to you for answers."

"I'll keep an eye out," Isaac replied quietly, the tiniest smile still tugging at his lips. We subsided into silence for a few minutes. I kept glancing over at him, watching as he retreated into his thoughts, the smile slowly falling from his face. He reached up to touch his cheek a few more times and also seemed to be prodding part of his leg, as if testing to see if it was tender. I saw a glimmer of pain flash over his face, and decided it was better to force him out of his thoughts.

"So, um…how have you been?" I asked lamely. Isaac looked up, his blue eyes wide at the sudden question.

"O-Oh, um, f-fine," he stammered, sitting upright once more and nodding. "How are you?"

"I'm good," I answered, nodding my confirmation at the road.

"Yeah, it uh, looks like you're getting on okay at school," he added. "That's good."

"Yeah," I agreed, slightly awkward. "I'm lucky I had Lydia, I guess. I don't know what I would've done otherwise." Part of me wondered if I'd still be friends with Scott and Stiles if I hadn't been friends with Lydia and the rest of the popular kids. Would I have become friends with Isaac?

Thankfully, I didn't have to dwell on this topic for long. We pulled up on the street outside Jackson's house, and I hopped out of the car to help Isaac get his bike out.

"Thanks for the ride, Sadie," he said softly, when both wheels were firmly planted on the ground once more.

"Oh, no problem, Isaac," I replied with a grin. "Glad I could help." I turned away, sliding the doors of the van shut. But Isaac was still standing in the street, hands gripping his bike tightly, mouth opening and closing silently.

"Uh…um…" I looked back at him, patiently raising my eyebrows while he tried to compose his sentence. "Hey, d-do… Do you think you could, maybe uh…d-drive me t-to school?" he stuttered. My face fell sympathetically.

"God, Isaac, I really wish I could," I assured him with a sad smile. "But the only reason I'm over here anyway is because I have to drive Jackson to the hospital."

"Oh…" Isaac deflated instantly and sighed. He seemed almost relieved and disappointed at the same time. "J-Jackson, right. Th-That's fine… I mean, no!" he corrected himself, eyes wide. "Um, that's uh…Is—Is he okay?"

"Yeah, nothing to worry about," I informed him, grinning and rolling my eyes at the towering Whittemore household. "He's been whining so he's getting checked out before the game tonight. Good luck, by the way!"

"Oh uh, thanks but I uh…I don't really play that often," he replied, one hand rubbing the back of his neck.

"Well, you never know," I countered brightly. "I mean, I heard about the pink eye epidemic. If Stiles can make first line, you can. All it takes is one injury on the field and you could move up to M.I.P." Isaac smiled, ducking his head.

"I kind of doubt that."

"Well, don't," I replied. Isaac glanced up at me through his very long eyelashes. Suddenly, I was reminded of Stiles. "Okay, well, I gotta get Jackson, but I'll see you around, Isaac."

"Y-Yeah," he sighed, grabbing his bike once more. "Thanks again. Bye, Sadie."

After a morning with Isaac Lahey, my ride with Jackson Whittemore seemed markedly less enjoyable. He complained the whole way to the hospital, about the appointment, about Lydia, about my stupid minivan and not understanding why he couldn't just drive himself in the Porsche. I assured him that I was only there in case the doctor discovered something life threatening, or in case he deemed Jackson incapable of driving. Realistically, I was there to explain away any oddities, and partially to make sure he didn't just ditch the appointment all together.

But rather than ditching the appointment, Jackson just seemed ready to ditch me so he could get it over with. He stormed into the hospital, leaving me to wander in a couple seconds behind him. I checked with the nurses at the counter to be sure he had checked in, and then settled down in the waiting room with a book on shape-shifters that I had disguised as _Wuthering Heights_. I waited for several minutes in silence before a voice pulled me out of my reading.

"Sadie?" I looked up quickly to see Mrs. McCall, clad in her nurses' scrubs and paused mid-stride as she walked through the room.

"Hi, Mrs. McCall," I chirped. She raised her eyebrows, obviously confused by my presence and happy attitude.

"Are you alright, sweetheart?"

"Oh, yeah," I assured her. "I'm here with a friend." Her eyes widened, and I quickly amended, "Who is just here for a check up. Everything's fine."

"Oh, okay then," she replied, visibly relaxing and allowing herself to smile a bit.

"How are you?" I asked, closing the book on my finger to mark my place.

"I'm good," she sighed, running a hand over the smooth part of her hair before tousling her ponytail. "Working constantly, trying to understand my teenage son."

"It's not just you," I giggled. "I think that most people find teenage boys to be an enigma, myself included."

"Scott just doesn't talk to me much," Mrs. McCall informed me ruefully. "I'm glad you and Stiles have been spending so much time with him."

"Oh, it's my pleasure," I said quickly. "Scott's great."

"How… How is he?" she asked timidly. "I know the whole thing with that girl Allison really tore him up, but he didn't really want to tell me about it."

"He's…keeping busy," I answered carefully, briefly recalling our car-chase escapade the previous night. "I think he's just trying to get his mind off her right now. She's still kind of avoiding him."

"Do you know her?" Mrs. McCall inquired. "Allison?"

"Yeah," I replied with a nod. "She's a really good friend of mine, actually. I promise, she's really sweet, she's just… Things moved kind of quickly with Scott since she just moved here and, she wanted to take some time to sort out her feelings. But she's great though."

"I'm sure she is," the woman nodded. "Scott didn't say much, but when he did talk about her…it was just like his whole face lit up, you know?"

"Trust me, I'm familiar with his love-stricken face," I replied with a smirk. Mrs. McCall smiled.

"I feel like I should thank you for not taking sides on this," she added, crossing her arms over her chest. "I know you're friends with Allison, but I know Scott really appreciates your friendship. He's just a lot happier with you and Stiles around."

"Like I said, Mrs. McCall, it's really not something I need thanks for," I reminded her. "I've always though Scott was really great, and I'm glad I get to be friends with him." Mrs. McCall smiled warmly, and I decided to shift the subject. "So if you're here now," I observed, gesturing around the waiting room, "does that mean you're off for the game tonight?"

"Yeah, thankfully," she agreed. "Scott mentioned it's a pretty important one."

"It's Stiles's first," I confirmed, beaming. Mrs. McCall smirked.

"I'm pretty sure that he was talking about getting to the semi-finals, but I think he mentioned Stiles was playing too." I quickly shut my mouth, eyes wide, giving a tiny nod instead. "Well, you were wonderful at Scott's first game. With you there to cheer him on, I'm sure Stiles will do just fine." I didn't trust myself to come up with a proper response to that, so I decided it was better to not speak at all. I grinned nervously, raising my hands to show I was keeping my fingers crossed. Mrs. McCall chuckled. "Okay, well unfortunately I've got to get back to work. I'll see you tonight, Sadie."

"Yeah! See you later, Mrs. McCall," I bid, quickly ducking my head back into my book. Great. Because I really needed another person to be suspicious about how I acted around Stiles. Just perfect.

I distracted myself for a while by reading more about different shape-shifter legends, and eventually Jackson emerged from the labyrinth of patient rooms. I quickly shut the book, stashing it in my bag and standing up to meet him. I noticed he seemed oddly calm, rather than the rushed irritation I'd experienced on our way in, or the last time I'd seen him emerge from a hospital. His confident swagger was in full swing, and he had a thoughtful, composed look on his face that still managed to look smug. I cocked an eyebrow.

"Good news, I take it?" Jackson jumped a bit, glancing at me as if he'd only just realized I was there.

"Uh yeah," he assured me, quickly plastering a smile on his face. "Perfectly normal, just like I said."

"Well, at least the lacrosse team can breath easy," I mused. Jackson nodded, chuckling. "Um, I just gotta run to the bathroom before we head to school, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," he agreed. "I'll meet you by the car."

Brushing off his surprisingly good mood, I walked down the hallway Jackson had returned from. It was the complete opposite direction of the bathrooms, but Jackson either didn't notice or didn't care enough to point it out. Casually as possible, I wandered until I found the long hallway of doctors' offices. When I found the name I was looking for, I took a deep breath and knocked gently.

"Come in," a voice called from inside. Steeling myself for confrontation, I slipped in the door and shut it behind me. I turned around and anxiously watched the man behind the desk, waiting for him to notice me. Finally, he glanced up.

"Uh, hey Dr. Fenris," I greeted, waving awkwardly. He just sat in shocked silence for few seconds. I didn't miss his eyes dart to the door behind me.

"Your friends…?"

"No," I assured him quickly. "I came by myself today. You're completely safe, promise." The doctor considered me for a moment before nodding quietly, his mouth slightly open as if he wasn't quite sure what to say. Noticing his hesitance, I decided to get straight to the point. "Well, technically I didn't come by myself. It's just me and my friend Jackson." Dr. Fenris raised his eyebrows.

"Whittemore?" he asked. "You mean the young man I just…?"

"Just finished examining, yeah," I agreed. "I sort of made the appointment for him. I know there're probably loads of doctor-patient confidentiality rules and whatever, but I just wanted to check. He's alright, right?" The doctor sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Yes, he's fine."

"So, the scratches…?" I prompted.

"Are nothing to worry about," he assured me. "The only odd thing I could find wrong was his slight case of aconite poisoning." I raised my eyebrows, fully aware of the fact that aconite was another name for wolfsbane. I thought back, trying to recall a time Jackson could have come in contact with the flower, but my mind was drawing a blank. Best I could guess, it'd gotten into his system through the scratches, since Derek had been poisoned by wolfsbane the day he attacked Jackson. Dr. Fenris's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. "Your friend seemed uh, reluctant to tell me what had caused the wound," he offered, narrowing his eyes at me. "Do you have any idea what scratched him?"

"I wasn't there," I replied truthfully. "And Jackson doesn't really like to talk about it. It took weeks to convince him he should get it checked out."

"I see," he replied, still staring at me with steady, suspicious eyes. I held his gaze for a few moments before shrugging and stuffing my hands in my pockets.

"But you know, out of curiosity," I started. "Since I'm here, uh… Hypothetically speaking, in your professional opinion, what would happen, you know, if a lycanthrope did that or something? Would there be any side effects?" I was careful to use the word "lycanthrope" instead of "werewolf," a feeble attempt to quell the doctor's nervousness about talking about such things at the hospital. For a minute, I thought that he was about to dismiss me, but finally he beckoned me closer, gesturing to the chair on the other side of his desk.

"Some myths," he whispered, shooting an anxious glance at his closed office door, "talked about a way to share memories and emotions. One…lycanthrope would impale another at the base of the neck. Most times this would pass thoughts from the impaler to the impaled, but in some cases it was rumored that experienced lycanthropes could draw memories out of others in the same fashion."

"That makes sense," I mumbled, thinking back to Jackson's dreams about a house fire. He must be experiencing Derek's own memories. I shuddered, and suddenly found myself hoping with everything I had that Derek hadn't been anywhere near his house when the fire was raging. I couldn't imagine having to go through that. Dr. Fenris looked at me with his eyebrows raised. "Oh, I mean because uh, it's the back of the neck. Spinal cord, brain, memories and stuff," I amended. The man simply nodded skeptically. "But a scratch that small wouldn't be enough to do anything else, right? To a human?"

"Some scratches can, if they're deep enough," Dr. Fenris nodded, leaning back in his chair but keeping his voice low. "But seeing as Mr. Whittemore seems to have had those marks for weeks without healing, I would say it's safe to say he wasn't turned."

"Of course not," I agreed, getting up with a small smile. "Werewolves aren't real. Thank you for your time." I was almost in the hall when the doctor spoke once more.

"Your friend," he called, making me pause halfway through the doorway. I turned back to look at him, inspecting his extremely conflicted face. "Before you left, he… He found my cigarettes. He told me exactly where they were, stuffed behind some books on my bookcase. But…I was in the house with you kids the whole time. There's…There's no way he even touched those shelves, but…he _knew _where my cigarettes were…" He trailed off, looking up at me pleadingly, unwilling to ask the question I knew he wanted the answer to. I smirked.

"That's a shame," I replied with a shrug. "You should really stop smoking. Have a good day, Dr. Fenris." And without another word, I backed out of the office, shutting the door behind me before he could ask anything else.

I quickly made my way out of the hospital, waving goodbye to Mrs. McCall when I passed, and headed back out to the van. Jackson was leaning against the side, lost in his own thoughts again. He looked up quickly when the car beeped, unlocked from a distance as I strolled up. Jackson flashed me a smug smile before sliding into the passenger seat. I furrowed my brow slightly. Surely he couldn't be this happy about being medically cleared when he thought he was fine in the first place.

"So, ready to go?" I asked as I jumped up behind the steering wheel.

"Yeah, step on it," Jackson instructed. I raised my eyebrows.

"I know the game's today and you're Mr. Popular and all, but are you really that anxious to get to school?"

"Nah," he chuckled, shaking his head. "There's just a couple things I've gotta do." I nodded skeptically, turning back to the road. We were silent for a few minutes before he suddenly asked, "Hey, did you ever find out anything about McCall?"

"What do you mean?" I asked casually, keeping my eyes in front of me.

"You know, about how weird he's been," Jackson elaborated. I could feel that he was watching me from the passenger seat, though I wasn't sure why.

"I've come to accept that Scott's just always weird," I laughed, shaking my head.

"I mean the lacrosse thing," Jackson corrected. "I thought he was doing steroids but…now I'm not so sure."

"Oh?" I asked. "Finally coming back to the real world and accepting that he just practiced a lot over the summer?" Jackson narrowed his eyes at me.

"I don't know if you're literally that clueless, or if you're just a better liar than McCall," he mused. I glanced over at him, attempting to hide my nervousness.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Thankfully, I sounded more offended than suspicious, which I guessed was a natural response to being called clueless. Jackson shook his head.

"Uh, never mind," he dismissed. "Just forget it."

"Okay…" I agreed quietly. Instead of pressing the matter, I decided to turn on the radio, giving Jackson and I an excuse to sink into our own thoughts. He was definitely acting strange, but he'd always been suspicious of Scott. I guessed that since the incident at school he would have been a little more wary, and it was only natural for him to try and connect Scott's two infamous mysteries—when did he get so good at lacrosse, and why was he at the school with supposed murderer Derek Hale? But the only thing that really linked Jackson to werewolves were the claw marks on the back of his neck, and seeing as Dr. Fenris had just informed him he was completely normal, that shouldn't have given him any clues. I shook off the feeling, vowing to tell Stiles and Scott about his strange attitude even though I was fairly certain it was nothing to worry about.

Unfortunately I never really got the chance to warn them. Jackson was speeding from the car almost the moment I put it in park. I rolled my eyes, grumbling something about boys before heading off to my class. I didn't expect to see Scott and Stiles until chemistry, however they surprised me by storming up to my locker between two periods.

"Sadie!" Stiles shouted, rushing up to me. "Where the hell were you this morning?!"

"Um, late?" I replied, raising an eyebrow at their frantic faces. "I was taking Jackson to the hospital."

"You were with Jackson?!" Scott repeated angrily. "What the hell did you say to him?!"

"What? Nothing!" I spat, now thoroughly confused. "I took him to Fenris to get his neck checked out. He told him he was completely fine, just a little aconite poisoning."

"What does that have to do with anything?!" Scott roared.

"Aconite's another term for wolfsbane," I explained patiently, tugging my chemistry binder from my locker. "I guess he got it second hand when Derek clawed him after being shot, which explains his weird nightmares by the way."

"Look, it—it doesn't matter!" Stiles cut me off, waving his arms. "Sadie, Jackson knows."

"What?" I asked, furrowing my brow and pausing in my book exchange.

"Jackson knows I'm a werewolf," Scott hissed. "He came over and pretty much threatened to tell everyone."

"What?!" I repeated in horror. "Scott, I—You have to know I didn't breath a word. Jack—Jackson doesn't even think I know! I swear, guys, I didn't say anything!"

"We know," Stiles nodded, running a hand over his hair. "Unfortunately that doesn't change the fact that he knows."

"What did he say to you?" I demanded. Scott sighed.

"He asked for the bite," he confessed. "And he said that if I don't get it for him, he's gonna tell Allison…" The boys jumped back as I violently slammed the locker door shut.

"He asked for the bite?" I repeated through clenched teeth. Scott nodded, glancing at my hand pressed against the locker door, knuckles white. I was practically seething. "He somehow manages to find out what you are, what's going on in this town, what's killing people, why we're mixed up in a bunch of murders and his first thought is that he needs to be better at lacrosse so he asks you to-?!"

"Woah, okay!" Stiles interrupted, grabbing my shoulder and pulling me away from the locker. "Why don't we all take a few deep breaths and not scream about Scott's condition in the crowded hallway? Huh? Okay." I closed my eyes, trying to concentrate on Stiles's hand gripping my shoulder instead of my flare of anger.

"If Jackson tells Allison, I'm dead," Scott fretted. "Even if she doesn't believe him, her dad will and then he's gonna come after me with the crossbow! Again!"

"Okay, let's not think about it," Stiles suggested, placing a hand on Scott's shoulder as well and steering us down the hallway. "Let's think about chemistry! I kind of hate that I just said that, but hey! Yeah! Chemistry!" Scott and I were quickly herded into the chemistry classroom. Stiles shoved me down into my usual seat, holding up a hand to indicate that I should stay, before dragging Scott away to his own lab table. I chanced a glance behind me, glaring daggers at Jackson. The lacrosse captain simply raised his eyebrows, smirking in curious amusement. I was about to get up and confront him, against Stiles's wishes, when Lydia slammed her books down next to me.

"Geez, Sadie, how late were you this morning?" she complained. "I waited at my locker until the warning bell rang and you never showed up."

"Sorry," I grumbled, facing front once more.

"Sorry?" she repeated. "That's all I'm getting for being stood up?"

"Lyd, I missed seeing you before school, it's not like a guy ditched you on a date."

"I don't like being stood up," she huffed, flipping her notebook open.

"Sorry, I just…" I sighed, running a hand through my hair and resting my elbow on the table. "…had a rough morning…"

"Are you okay?" she asked, concern slipping through her mask of annoyance.

"Yeah," I assured her, sitting up straight and nodding. "Let's just get this done."

I worked on the assigned lab with Lydia in completely silence, letting her prattle on about Allison and Jackson and how the new shoes she'd bought were finally worn in. When the period was over, I had to pry myself from her grip so I could walk to the cafeteria on my own, not trusting myself to calmly converse with Jackson in front of her and Allison. Instead, I stomped over to Stiles, pausing to straighten my Thor T-shirt, skirt, and tug up my thigh-highs before I sat down across from him. The silence that hung over the table was a cautious one. Stiles was watching me carefully as I viciously tore into my food, taking out my frustration on the chicken strips so I wouldn't get up and punch Jackson in the face. I caught him opening his mouth once or twice, but he seemed to think it was better to let me sit in silence. In retrospect, it probably was, otherwise I might have just snapped at him. Regardless, Stiles seemed relieved when Scott finally joined us.

"Okay," he began, drumming his hands on the table and apparently completely oblivious to Scott's air of misery. "So, did you get her to give you the necklace?"

"Not exactly," Scott replied, pushing his food around the plate.

"Ah, what happened?" Stiles pressed.

"She told me not to talk to her," Scott informed us bitterly. "At all."

"Sorry, Scott," I apologized half-heartedly. He nodded while Stiles stuffed a chicken strip in his mouth.

"So, she's not giving you…" he started, his voice muffled around the food.

"She's not giving me the necklace!" Scott cut him off harshly. Stiles ducked his head, nodding slightly. He quickly swallowed his food when he noticed my glare.

"Well, did you find anything else out?" he prompted. His friend shook his head.

"Just that I know nothing about girls, and that they're totally psychotic," he grumbled before shooting me a semi-apologetic look. "Sorry, Sadie."

"It's fine," I shrugged, chomping off the end of another chicken tender. "I know I'm psychotic."

"Okay," Stiles said, tapping the table a bit, to bring us back to order. "I came up with a Plan B just in case anything like this happened."

"What's Plan B?" Scott sighed.

"Just steal the stupid thing!" Stiles informed him, brandishing his hands wildly. Scott didn't look too pleased by that plan.

"Couldn't we try at least getting to Harris?" he offered, but Stiles shook his head.

"My dad put him on a twenty-our hour protective detail, okay? The necklace is all we got." Scott looked away in resignation.

"Just steal it, Scott," I sighed.

"Thank you," Stiles piped, pointing at me and looking pointedly at his friend.

"That's what Derek said to do," I continued. Stiles's smile dropped.

"Uh no, I'm Stiles. This is Stiles's Plan B."

"Yeah," I agreed with a shrug. "Which Derek already suggested last night."

"He did not!" Stiles argued, elbows banging on the table. "My idea!"

"Oh my God, why do you feel like you have to take credit for it, huh?" I challenged, rolling my eyes. "It's not like stealing it is some complicated, well-thought-out idea to take pride in."

"Hey-!" Stiles started to protest, but Scott interrupted us.

"Guys, he's watching us." Scott jerked his head to indicate somewhere over my shoulder.

"What? Who?" I asked, turning to look behind me.

"No!" Stiles said quickly, grabbing my hand and effectively keeping me facing him. "Don't turn around. It's Jackson." My eyes widened just slightly and Stiles nodded, pulling his hands back and leaning back in his chair. I saw Scott cringe, and he glanced back at the spot where Jackson must have been sitting before forcing his eyes back to his tray.

"What's wrong?" I asked quietly, leaning forward.

"Jackson's talking to me," he explained. "He knows I can hear him." Stiles eyes widened, and he leaned over to look at Jackson before Scott hit him. "Look at me! Just talk to me! Act normal! Pretend that nothing's happening!" Stiles turned in his chair to face Scott, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly without sound. "Say something! Talk to me!" Scott begged.

"I can't think of anything!" Stiles despaired, waving his hands manically. "My mind is completely blank!"

"_Your_ mind's blank?!" Scott repeated incredulously. "You can't think of _something_ to say?!"

"Not under this kind of pressure!" Stiles whined.

"Fine," I interrupted, casually sliding my chair to the right. "How about I just move here, so Jackson doesn't have a direct line of sight, and I'll just talk to you about all the different ways I'm planning to kill him for being a jackass?"

"Yeah," Scott agreed, looking back at me and nodding fervently. "Good, let's do that."

"Okay, well my first thought has always been to use his greatest strength against him," I offered, shrugging. "I thought it would be fitting to bludgeon him with a lacrosse stick. Plus, I could probably blame Greenberg."

"Isn't it just safer to make it look like it's not a murder at all?" Stiles suggested. I rolled my eyes.

"Maybe I'll just frame Stiles instead," I added as if he weren't there. Scott smirked.

"Very funny," Stiles sneered. "FYI, he's not even sitting with them any more." I glanced back, instantly spotting Lydia and Allison sitting by themselves at a table by the door. All three of us glanced around, attempting to find the missing lacrosse captain.

"Where the hell is he?" Scott whispered, head whipping back and forth. Suddenly, he froze, staring down at his tray. I shared a look with Stiles, assuming that Jackson had started speaking to him once more from wherever he was hiding. My suspicions were confirmed when his shocked face turned to a glare. "Yes," he whispered harshly, a response to something neither Stiles nor I could hear. I glanced back at Stiles, noticing how his left leg bounced nervously as he watched Scott. His hands tightened on his water bottle, entire arm shaking from the force as he tried and failed to take a controlled sip.

"Scott, come on," Stiles coaxed, abandoning the pretense that nothing was happening and leaning into his friend's side. "You can't let him do this. You can't let him have this kind of power over you, okay?" But Scott wasn't listening. He was gripping his lunch tray, gripping it so hard the silverware began to rattle on his plate.

"Scott, please," I begged, hands sliding forward to rest on top of his where they were clenched on the tray. Even then, Scott didn't seem to be able to snap out of it. Instead, he snapped the tray, suddenly cracking it clean into two pieces by sheer force. The entire cafeteria went quiet, everyone looking toward us. I glanced around, and finally spotted Jackson leaning against one of the vending machines, chomping triumphantly on an apple. He winked at me and then, knowing he had our attention, strode confidently out of the room. I was beyond furious.

"You know what?" I snapped at no one in particular. My mind set, I quickly stood up, pulling my bag onto my shoulder and snatching up my books.

"No, Sadie, don't," Stiles warned me, but I ignored him. Seeing red, I stormed out of the cafeteria, completely oblivious to the various curious glances I was getting. I marched after Jackson, finding him only a hall or two away, casually leaning on the wall and finishing his apple.

"What the hell is your problem, Jackson?!" I demanded shrilly. Jackson smirked, casually pushing himself off the wall and stepping to meet me. His calm air suggested that he'd been waiting for me to storm after him, was waiting to watch me snap, but I was too enraged to care.

"Usually you're the one telling me," he baited evenly.

"That's because _usually_ you're too arrogant to even see you have any problems!" I spat. Jackson just nodded slightly.

"And here we go. Tell me, Sadie. What's my problem?" He even had the audacity to smile. I lost it.

"You know what, Jackson?! Shut the fuck up! I don't care that you found out about Scott! That's not the problem! It's not a problem that you managed to pull your head out of your ass long enough to figure out what was going on around here! It wouldn't have been a problem that you confronted Scott about it! It wouldn't have been a problem if you freaked out on everyone for hiding it because you thought we were endangering people or something! It wouldn't have been a problem if you were trying to blackmail us into keeping you safe or giving you extra protection or whatever! No! The problem is that you are such a pretentious, self-centered, self-absorbed asshole that the first thing you think of when you think 'werewolf' is 'Maybe I'll get better at lacrosse! Ha! Who cares about all of the people dying?! Who cares about endangering my friends?! Who cares about becoming a target?! Who cares about anything so long as I get what I want and I get to get back at McCall?!' Well you know what, Jackson?! Even if you get bitten, nothing's gonna change! Scott's still gonna be good at lacrosse. People are still gonna know who he is, and think he's awesome or cute or nice or popular, and you're never gonna have the spotlight to yourself again. No one's gonna like you any more than they do now just cause you can throw the ball harder or run faster! You're still gonna be a fucking asshole who is so blinded by his pride that doesn't care if he or anyone else dies so long as he's the captain of the fucking lacrosse team!"

I stood there panting, practically trembling in place as I tried to recollect myself after screeching at him. Jackson stood in front of me, still wearing his smile, but I knew him well enough at this point to see through it. He was composed on the outside, much more so than I was, but I knew I'd gotten under his skin. I could see the slight hollowness in his eyes as I screamed about no one liking him any more, his real weakness. I figured it had something to do with his parents, something do with the fact that he was adopted, but that didn't make it okay for him to casually throw away people's lives, his life, on the chance it might make people like him a little more. Or rather, envy him a little more. After a few seconds, he composed himself, hiding that hollowness behind his mask once more and plastering on a smirk.

"You know, Sadie, I gotta hand it to ya, I didn't think you had it in you," he complimented, sidling forward a few steps. "Who knew you could be such a bitch?" I took a deep breath, closing my eyes so I could avoid his penetrating gaze. He was still inching closer, ever so slowly. "So, how'd you get all caught up in this anyway? Huh? How'd you find out?" I sighed, debating whether or not there was any reason to lie now that Jackson knew about Scott.

"Stiles," I whispered finally. "After we got attacked at the video store." Jackson chuckled.

"God, that loser must've cracked like an egg."

"No," I defended immediately, glaring at him. "Actually it took me ages to convince him. I'd been bugging him and Scott about it ever since the first week of school."

"Hm, and how'd you convince him?" Jackson sneered, tugging a piece of my hair. "Your, uh… Your pretty looks?" I smacked his hand away, the resounding slap echoing slightly in the empty hall, but he just smirked, shaking out his hand.

"By telling him that I needed to protect myself, actually," I corrected. "That I wanted to help keep you guys safe."

"Well, thanks for the sentiment, but I don't need you to keep me safe, Bennet," Jackson leered. "Especially not when I'm a werewolf, or whatever it is you guys are calling it these days."

"Jackson, stop," I begged. "You don't know what you're getting into. The bite doesn't always work. You could die! And even if you don't there are so many problems! You could freak out and kill someone! Okay? Or you could get yourself killed! There—There are hunters and other wolves! Don't you remember how afraid you were when we got locked in the school? With a werewolf hunting us down?! Think of that, but all the time! Always trying to be careful, always trying to control yourself, always trying to make sure no one knows what you are!"

"You'd know what I was," Jackson suggested, a smile tugging at his lips. I abruptly stopped speaking. "You know, you sound kinda worried. Like you're concerned about me and my safety."

"Of course I'm concerned about you and your safety, Jackson," I hissed, rolling my eyes. "You're supposed to be my friend." But Jackson didn't seem deterred by the annoyance in my voice. He was stepping closer again.

"I gotta say, I'm really impressed," he conceded, eyes scanning me in a way I wasn't sure I was really comfortable with. "The way you lied about everything. That's pretty amazing. I mean, even after I figured it out this morning I still thought you didn't have a clue. Bet you're pretty badass when you're running with wolves, huh?" I held my ground, but Jackson was now so close I could almost smell the tangy scent of apple on his breath. "And with your little makeover, you're even kinda hot. I think you could handle a werewolf if you wanted to." Now he was definitely too close. I smiled.

"Do you think I'm stupid, Jackson?" I asked sweetly. The question caught him slightly off guard, making him pause, his hand half raised to my face. "Maybe you didn't hear me before, but you being a werewolf isn't gonna change anything. It's not gonna make anyone like you more, including me. And I wouldn't do that to my best friend." I roughly lifted a hand and shoved his chest, sending him back a few paces. He put up no resistance, which meant there was no stumbling. He remained frustratingly upright, watching me evenly as I rejected his offer, probably one of the first rejections he'd gotten in his life.

"Yeah, you're right," he finally agreed with a smirk. My own smile faltered. "You're entirely too goody-two shoes for that, aren't you? But it doesn't matter. You're not the only one who can help get me what I want." He took a final bite of his apple, which was now chewed down to the core, almost as if to say that it was also the end of our conversation. He blew past me, casually tossing his refuse into a garbage can. "I'll see you around, Sadie." I simply stood there, frozen as I watched Jackson walk away from me.

I knew that Jackson had to mean Allison. If he manipulated her in some way, there was less of a chance she would know it, since she had no clue about werewolves. Being with her gave him power over Scott, who was likely to break if it meant keeping Allison in his life. But Jackson couldn't do anything truly terrible while he was with Lydia, I figured. I knew that he loved her, deep down, and as much as he was looking for approval from someone, he wouldn't risk losing the one person in his life who truly loved him.

…Right…?

Two periods later, I had my answer.

Halfway through biology, Lydia's phone had started whirring in her purse. She discreetly pulled out the phone to check her message, but suddenly her entire body went rigid. I gently prodded her with my elbow, raising a questioning eyebrow, but she ignored me. I saw her turn around, glancing at Jackson on the other side of the room, but he seemed to be ignoring her, sadistically smug smile on his face. When the bell rang, she tore out of the classroom, stomping after Jackson's black leather jacket into the hallway, and leaving me very confused and alone at the lab table.

Lydia didn't show up for history. Five minutes into the period, I finally asked the teacher if I could go to the bathroom. I wandered the halls, checking all of the girls' rooms until I head a quiet sniffling in one down the hall. Lydia was crumpled on the floor under the window. If Lydia crying hadn't alarmed me enough, the fact that she was sitting on the public school bathroom floor in her new pink dress did. I rushed over to her, dropping to my knees by her side and tugging a packet of tissues out of my purse. It took a very long time to calm her down. She wasn't just crying, she was sobbing, her face rapidly beginning to match the color of her dress, mascara streaming down her cheeks. Finally, Lydia was able to choke out the three words that sent any thoughts or considerations of a salvageable friendship with Jackson Whittemore flying out of my head.

"Jackson dumped me!"

* * *

**A/N: Okay, okay, so it's a little later than I intended to post, but it's up! I'm sorry! So, we see Sadie's steadily decreasing relationship with Jackson, slipping as he slips farther into douchery. Also, for those of you who were anxious for it, the small introduction of Mr. Isaac Lahey! *fangirls scream in the distance***

**Thank you so much for your continued support and feedback! Every time I see there was a new follower or favorite or review, it makes me write a little faster. Thank you to becca1130, ScornedxRose, xxxxninaxxxx, Lojo2014o, xALFiex, SammieLuvsFood, A Cool Guest, TameTheGhosts, It Belongs In A Museum, Lucy Greenhill, ellisbellisballs, vanillaclouds101, Kelly1432, gLeekyandProud, Guest, forlornwriter, Isaac fan, LynZann, and LionHeartMisfit. **

**Don't forget to check my tumblr for visuals and snippets! Thank you again, everyone, for reading and sticking with me!**

**EDIT: Thanks to tumblr user lostinwonderland314, there's now a polyvore page for Sadie's outfit in this and the following chapters! Link on my profile if you're interested. Thank you!**

**-Brittney**


	24. Chapter 24

I think seeing me as angry as I was really was what forced Lydia to compose herself. And when Lydia composed herself, she forced me to compose myself. Lydia was strong, confident and organized. She gave herself her own pep talk about how useless Jackson was. He was only the co-captain of the lacrosse team, he was too easy to figure out and manipulate, his grades were nothing to be proud of, and the Abercrombie-and-Fitch-model look was so middle school. I had added that he was a complete and utter douchebag who didn't care about anyone except himself, but this point only made Lydia frown. She scolded me for making such a big deal out of it in such an immature manner. Getting mad at Jackson wouldn't accomplish anything, except giving him the exact reaction he wanted. I knew she was right, but I didn't intend on letting up on my war against Jackson any time soon.

Despite the brave face she was putting on, I knew Lydia. I could see how every word was being calculated in her head before passing through her painted lips. I could see how her hands were shaking slightly, causing her hands to slip so she had to reapply her eyeliner three times. I could hear her voice wavering occasionally, the pitch just a smidge too high. Things other people wouldn't be able to see, if they weren't Lydia Martin's best friend. Best friend or not, though, I knew Lydia didn't want to show me her weakness. She needed time to compose herself, time alone to think things through. As much as I wanted to be there for her, I knew that it was a good thing she didn't want me there. Stiles, Scott and Derek needed my help to find the Alpha, and just as Lydia needed me to not be with her. It felt twisted and wrong to say that things had worked out, but at least I didn't feel like I was abandoning her.

When I'd told her that I'd driven the van to school, I could tell that Lydia was somewhat relieved. She would be able to drive by herself for a while, completely free from prying eyes. So when the final bell rang, I gave Lydia one last long, comforting hug before letting her dash away to her Beetle, anxious to get off school grounds. I sighed, reluctant to let her go, but turned to get into the van anyway. It occurred to me briefly that since I'd driven Jackson to school, he didn't have the Porsche. I'd counted on him getting a ride from Lydia, but that clearly wasn't happening. I grinned viciously to myself. Oh well. Looked like the asshole was out of a ride home.

I stopped by the grocery store to pick up a few things before heading over to Stiles's house. He'd mentioned some big plan he had in the works to find the Alpha without the help of Harris or Allison's necklace. I knew that logically I should wait for him to get out of lacrosse practice. But Lydia needed space and I was anxious to stop the Alpha, so I found myself pulling up to his house long before the blue Jeep had probably even left the school parking lot. I pulled my bag onto my shoulder, scooped up the shopping bag and locked the van behind me before striding up to the porch and knocking on the door. It took a few minutes, but eventually the door swung open, revealing a fairly confused Sheriff Stilinski. He was in plain clothes for once, simply a pair of blue jeans and a red flannel shirt. It was always nice to see him in civilian clothes, since I felt like most of the time I saw him in uniform, either because he was on his way to or from work, or because Stiles, Scott and I had suspiciously shown up at yet another crime scene he was working.

"Sadie," the sheriff greeted, visibly relaxing when he saw it was me. "Hey, uh, Stiles isn't home yet."

"Oh yeah, I know, lacrosse practice," I agreed. "But Lydia wanted some space so I thought I'd come over anyway. I can come back later if you want?"

"No, no, it's fine," he assured me, stepping aside and waving me into the house. "I was just surprised is all. Stiles didn't tell me you were coming over."

"It was a kind of last minute thing," I informed him. "We just decided to hang out after school."

"So, I can expect Scott turning up after practice too?" he asked, shutting the front door behind me.

"I don't think so," I replied casually, thinking back to Scott's plan to break into Allison's room to look for the necklace. "Pretty sure he had something to do. Might just be me and Stiles today."

"Oh," Mr. Stilinski said plainly, before recovering. "And you're still choosing to spend your time with him?" I laughed.

"Yeah, maybe not my best decision," I joked, walking into the kitchen. "I hope you don't mind. I stopped to pick you guys up some things." I placed the shopping bag on the counter, pulling out my can of iced tea.

"You didn't have to do that," he insisted, walking up to the counter as well. I shrugged.

"Eh, it was on the way." I pulled out a bottle of soda to put in the fridge and heard the sheriff rummaging through the bag behind me.

"These say 'veggie' on them," he grumbled, pulling out a bag of Veggie Straws, which I assumed he hoped would be potato chips. I smirked at his disappointment.

"They taste fine," I assured him. "Just as salty as chips and your son won't hunt you down for eating them." Sheriff Stilinski continued to look skeptically at the bag. Before he could form a complaint, his phone went off in another room, making his head snap up in an ever-alert way I was very familiar with.

"Well, make yourself at home, Sadie," he said, smiling hastily before dashing to pick up his phone. I returned the grin, a light twinge in my stomach. It was a feeling I'd always experienced when my own father's work phone went off, that slight tug of worry that something could go wrong. Even though it was more likely that something would be wrong in Beacon Hills, I pushed the feeling away. Sheriff Stilinski would be fine, and if there was something going on, I had my car and could easily go investigate by myself.

I put the rest of the food away as best I could. I didn't exactly feel comfortable rummaging through all the cabinets trying to figure out where it was best to put each item, as it wasn't my kitchen or even a kitchen I'd spent a serious amount of time in. Still, this worked as a good excuse to just take the box of cookies with me into the next room when I decided to start my homework. Unfortunately, my plan to work at the dining room table until Stiles got home was foiled as soon as I walked into the room. The table was covered in files and paperwork, empty glasses and scrunched up napkins. From the looks of it, the dining room had become more of an office space than anything else. Mr. Stilinski was on the phone in the living room, and I didn't want it to look like I was trying to listen in on his conversation. This left only one option.

"Okay," I sighed to myself. "Bedroom it is." Slightly more nervous than I should have been, I hoisted my bag higher onto my shoulder and headed down the hall to Stiles's room.

It was actually exceptionally cleaner than it had been last time I'd been in there, for which I was thankful. For some reason, less clutter made me feel less like I was intruding, coming to hang out in Stiles's bedroom without him. I moved to sit at the desk, only to find that it looked very similar to the dining room table. Stiles and his father seemed to work with similar methods, spreading their reading material and work all out over the available surface. I pouted, not wanting to attempt to work at the desk lest I mess up some unnoticeable organization system Stiles had. I looked around the room, eying the bed nervously before shaking my head. No. There was no way I was inviting myself to sit Stiles's bed, especially because he was not here. I probably wouldn't be able to get much work done anyway. Instead, I spotted a chair tucked into the corner next to the bed and dropped my bag next to it. That would do just fine.

I put some music on quietly from my iPod and settled into my homework. I wasn't sure what exactly Stiles's plan was, but I figured I might as well get some actual schoolwork done while I waited. That plan was going pretty well until my phone vibrated in my purse. I fished it out, opening the new text message.

_"Did Scott get the necklace?"_

I raised my eyebrows when I noticed the text was from Derek. I was still trying to wrap my head around the idea of texting him. The image of Derek sitting in the ruins of his burned home with a cell phone seemed odd, though I wasn't sure if I found it more comical or tragic.

_"He's working on it."_

I had expected some sort of angry text as a reply. Instead, my phone started vibrating violently where I'd tossed in on the bed. Apparently, Derek was the kind of person who immediately switched to a phone call when he got frustrated.

"Hello?" I greeted, accepting the call.

_"He's working on it?!"_ Derek demanded angrily. _"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!"_ I was about to reply when I heard footsteps in the hallway. I glanced around, reminding myself of the fact that I was not actually in my own house.

"Uh, hey Mom!" I greeted, eying the open door to Stiles's bedroom.

_"…What?" _

"Uh, yeah. Sorry I forgot to call. I'm at Stiles's house."

_"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!"_ Derek snarled. I rolled my eyes.

"I said I'm at Stiles's house," I repeated firmly. The sheriff appeared in the doorway, peeking his head inside to look around, presumably to check up on me. I raised a hand in a wave, indicating the phone. Mr. Stilinski simply smiled, raising his hand in a reply wave and backing out.

_"What does that have to do with anything?!"_

"Um, Stiles's isn't home yet," I replied, trying to keep myself from growling at him. "It's just me and the sheriff right now."

_"Oh,"_ Derek replied shortly, finally coming to the realization that it might seem a little odd for me to be on the phone with suspected murderer Derek Hale while I was sitting in the sheriff's house.

"Yeah," I replied in annoyance.

_"Fine, whatever. Did Scott get the necklace?"_

"Uh, no," I answered, scrunching up my face a bit.

_"Why not?"_ he demanded. I could tell that he was fighting to keep his voice calm through the frustration.

"It's been a little tough for him since he broke up with Allison, but he's doing his best," I replied conversationally. "I think he said something about trying to stop by her house after lacrosse practice."

_"Why doesn't he just steal it?!"_ Derek spat. I narrowed my eyes at Stiles's bedspread.

"I'm pretty sure that's what he's trying to do."

_"And what are we supposed to do in the mean time?!"_

"Well," I mused, looking around. "That's why I'm gonna hang out with Stiles. I'm not sure what we're doing, but I guess I'll find out what he's got planned when he gets back from lacrosse."

_"He's got a plan?"_ Derek asked skeptically.

"Yeah, I'll call you once I know what we're doing."

_"No, I'm coming."_

"What?! No!" I retorted immediately. I quickly glanced at the empty doorway, making sure my raised voice hadn't drawn any attention. "I-I mean, I'm fine, Mom."

_"Stop calling me Mom!"_ Derek groaned from the other end. I glared at the half-empty box of cookies.

"No," I replied firmly. "I'm fine here with the sheriff for now."

_"I'm not just letting you and Stiles screw around!"_ Derek barked. My eyes widened, and I briefly wondered if werewolves could heart heartbeats increase over the phone. Apparently he hadn't noticed, since he continued without pause, _"If you guys are planning something, I'm gonna be there."_

"Fine," I growled, crossing my arms over my chest. "I'll figure something out and see you in a little bit."

_"Thank you,"_ he replied, and I got the sense that he was rolling his eyes.

"Okay, bye Mom!" I chirped.

_"I hate you."_ I smirked, promptly hanging up the phone.

My big, complicated plan for getting Derek into the Stilinski house had ended up being to let him in while Mr. Stilinski was in the bathroom. We rushed quietly back to Stiles room, where I made him stand in the corner behind the door in case the sheriff decided to poke his head in to talk to me again.

"You realize that this is a terrible idea, right?" I'd whispered.

"I don't have any place better," he'd hissed. "My house is under surveillance and every cop in town knows my face."

"Right, so logically the best place to hide is the sheriff's house," I shot sarcastically. "Not a single fault in that plan."

"No one will think to look for me here," he replied calmly. I turned back to my homework with a smirk.

"Guess you're right about that. Why could Derek Hale be in the sheriff's son's bedroom?" I successfully ignored his enraged glare.

Derek and I settled into content silence. I made some serious headway on my homework, while Derek stood awkwardly in the corner of Stiles's room. I caught him looking around, casually inspecting every inch of the new environment. He picked up a few things on the shelves for a closer look too, pictures, CDs, etcetera. I made some quiet comment about how rude it was to snoop through other people's things, but Derek ignored me. Eventually, he glanced up from the paperback he was reading the back of.

"He's here," he said quietly. I glanced up at him before returning to my biology work.

"Yeah? Good for him." Not a minute later, there was a slight clatter outside the room as Stiles, coordinated as he was, rushed through the front door and to his bedroom. With single-minded determination, he burst into the room, carelessly throwing his backpack to the side and dashing to his desk. Derek and I shared a quick look, still completely unnoticed. But before I could so much as clear my throat, the sheriff's voice sounded from the hallway.

"Hey, Stiles!"

"Yo, D-!" Stiles abruptly stopped speaking when he spun around in his chair, finding Derek lurking in the corner, and me next to his bed. His eyes sprung open. "Derek? Sadie?" I rolled my eyes as Derek sharply held a finger over his mouth, motioning for Stiles to exit the room. Stiles fumbled, tripping once more as he rushed into the hallway and half-shut the door behind him. I didn't need werewolf hearing to listen in on the conversation in the hall, holding my breath nervously.

"What'd you say?" Mr. Stilinski asked.

"What? I said 'Yo…Dad.' Ha…" Derek looked like he wanted to slam the door shut on Stiles's arm for his poor cover up, but restrained himself. The sheriff, however, seemed slightly less skeptical of Stiles's answer.

"You and Sadie okay?"

"Wh-What? Sadie? Here?"

"Uh, yeah," Mr. Stilinski laughed lightly. "She's been here for about an hour or so." Stiles glanced slightly back into the room and I nodded fervently.

"R-Right, Sadie. Yeah, we're—we're fine." His father seemed to accept this answer.

"Okay. Uh, listen, I've uh, I've got something I've got to take care of, but um… I'm gonna be there tonight. I mean, your first game."

"My first game," Stiles repeated. "Gosh. Great. Awesome. Uh…good."

"I'm very happy for you. And I'm really proud of you," his dad continued, and I could hear the smile in his voice from where I sat. Stiles laughed nervously.

"Thanks. Me too. I'm happy…and proud…of myself."

"So, they're really gonna let you play, right?" his father asked.

"Yeah! Dad. I'm first line. Believe that?"

"I'm very proud," the sheriff repeated.

"Oh, me too," Stiles agreed. "Again, I'm…oh!" Stiles's arm disappeared from the doorframe as he stepped farther out into the hallway, and I guessed from the slight ruffle and Stiles's muttering that his father had pulled him into a hug. The door had snapped shut when he stepped out, but the voices were still audible in the hallway.

"Uh, is everything…okay?"

"Okay?" Stiles repeated nervously. "Yeah, okay. Everything's good. Great. Fine. Why wouldn't things be okay?"

"Well, uh…" Sheriff Stilinski trailed off for a moment. "You've got Sadie in your room."

"Yup," Stiles agreed, nervously popping the "p" on the end. Now his father was the one chuckling nervously.

"So, um… I'm going out, so… I'm really happy for you and… Whatever you guys are uh, you know, whatever you guys are doing just, be safe okay?" I froze in my chair, completely horror stricken. Derek looked over at me with a raised eyebrow as I stared fearfully at the door.

"What?!" Stiles asked frantically. There was a soft thud as he bumped into the door, assumedly trying to look back inside without realizing it was closed. "Ow! Dad! No, we…! Sadie and I aren't uh…! We're doing homework, there is no…! None of that… Uh no… You know not that I wouldn't uh-! I mean, Sadie's great! She's super! But we're not uh…" My head sank into my hands as Stiles stammered himself into silence.

"Right," the sheriff replied dubiously. "Well, uh… I just thought… I'm just gonna… I'll see you tonight."

"Yes! Take it easy!" Stiles replied quickly. There was another thud, which I was pretty sure was his head against the door. A few tense seconds later, the door eased open and Stiles slipped inside with a very, very nervous smile. For once, I was very happy for Derek's one-track mind. The moment he was sure Sheriff Stilinski was out of earshot, he strode over to Stiles and slammed his back into the door, grabbing a fistful of his jacket.

"If you say one word," he growled, brandishing a finger in Stiles's face. Stiles, somehow, was able to keep his cool.

"Oh, what? You mean like, 'Hey Dad, Derek Hale's in my room, bring your gun'?" Slowly, Derek lowered his hand, moving his head an inch or two back from Stiles's face. "Yeah, that's right. If I'm harboring your fugitive ass, it's my house, my rules, buddy." He bravely smacked Derek on the shoulder. The werewolf looked down, eying the place Stiles hit him before looking back to glare at him. I cleared my throat.

"Okay, Derek, as much as I'm enjoying the show, I think you can let him go now." Stiles's eyes darted over to me, lounging in the chair next to his bed with my belongings splayed around me. Derek made no verbal indication that he heard me, but after a few seconds he nodded slightly, releasing Stiles and straightening his jacket. The pale boy grinned in triumph, mirroring Derek's actions by straightening his leather jacket as well. I rolled my eyes, trying to contain a giggle when Derek stepped menacingly toward Stiles, making the poor boy jump about a foot in the air. He scampered over to his desk, collapsing into his chair and shooting me a nervous glance. But Derek intervened again.

"Scott didn't get the necklace?" he asked, though he clearly already knew the answer.

"No, he's still working on it," Stiles replied, spinning the chair to face his two guests. "But there's something else we can try." I raised my eyebrows, and Derek stuffed his hands in his pockets, gesturing for Stiles to continue. "The night we were trapped in the school, Scott sent a text to Allison asking her to meet him there."

"So?" Derek asked, shaking his head.

"So, it wasn't Scott," Stiles replied.

"You smashed his phone, remember?" I reminded him. Derek nodded in understanding.

"Can you find out who sent it?" he asked. I turned to Stiles, who shook his head.

"No, not me," he answered. "But I think we know somebody who can."

"Who?" I inquired when he turned back to me.

"Danny," he replied shortly. I cocked an eyebrow.

"Danny as in sweet boy Danny Mahealani?" Stiles nodded. "Look, I know he'd kind of a techie but…"

"You know he was nearly arrested a couple years ago?" he baited.

"What?" I asked, incredulously.

"I looked up his arrest report," he informed me, nodding sagely. "Trust me, Danny boy knows how to trace a text."

"Fine," I sighed. "And just how do you intend on convincing him to trace the text for you?"

"Well, you're friends with him, right?"

"Yeah," I replied uneasily.

"Great!" Stiles grinned. "So, just like, invite him over here, say we're doing homework and then you ask for a favor and he traces the text! It'll be fine!"

"Stiles, I'm not dragging Danny into this," I asserted, shaking my head. Stiles rolled his eyes.

"Fine, then I'll drag him into it. Just please call him." I glared at him, but before I could form another argument, Derek walked over and snatched my phone of the bed.

"Hey! No!" I objected, jumping up. Derek easily held me back with one strong arm, scrolling through my contacts and starting the call for me. He sneered, handing me the phone, which was already ringing. Pouting, I snatched it away from him, beginning to pace around the room as I often did when I was on a call. After a few more rings, Danny picked up.

_"Hello?"_

"Hey, Danny!" I greeted in a voice just a tad to bright. "What's up?"

_"Uh, nothing much,"_ he replied, confusion tinting his voice. _"Just got home from lacrosse. What's up with you?"_

"Well, I'm over at Stiles's house," I replied, wrapping and arm around my chest.

_"Oh,"_ Danny chuckled. _"So that's why you're so happy."_ I glared at the carpet.

"The hell is that supposed to mean?" I asked, avoiding both Stiles and Derek's looks.

_"Nothing, nothing,"_ Danny laughed quietly.

"Ignoring that," I growled, shaking my head. "Look, we were wondering if you wanted to join us."

_"Ha, no thank you,"_ Danny replied, still laughing. I rolled my eyes.

"You're Stiles's lab partner, right?" I asked. "We're just gonna work on bio together."

_"I don't know,"_ he replied. _"I know I'm friends with you and all, but Stilinski's kind of weird. Plus, I wouldn't want to get in the middle of your little study date."_

"Trust me," I ground through clenched teeth as Derek smirked. "It's not."

_"Is his dad home?"_ Danny asked, making me furrow my eyebrows.

"No?" I answered in confusion, making Danny laugh.

_"If you and Stiles are studying alone at his house? Yeah, that's a study date."_

"We're not!" I objected quickly, glancing over at Derek. The smirk dropped off his face and Stiles raised his eyebrows. He went to tap Derek on the arm, about to ask what was going on since he could probably hear the other line, but Derek yanked his arm away before Stiles could touch him. "Uh, it's me, Stiles and…Stiles's cousin." Derek's blank face quickly changed into a glare, and Stiles gaped up at him with an expression that looked as if he was contemplating on what planet he and Derek could be mistaken as relatives.

_"So you're asking me to come over and save you from the family awkwardness?"_

"Asking. Begging. Entreating. Beseeching. Imploring. Your choice." There was a long pause before Danny heaved a huge sigh. "Please?" I sang, dragging the word out in an annoying, high-pitch tone.

_"Fine,"_ Danny groaned. _"I'll be over in a bit."_

"You are the best best best best best!" I chanted, giving Stiles the thumbs up. He thrust his arms in the air in victory, spinning the chair around freely. I gave Danny the address and then flopped back onto Stiles's bed in relief. "He said he'd be over in a little bit."

"Sadie, you are an angel," Stiles grinned, turning around and beginning to type away on his laptop. I rolled my eyes but smiled widely. After a few minutes, I sat up, smoothing my hair down and turning to Derek.

"Okay, let's get you out of here."

"What?" Derek asked, turning to look at me from where he'd been examining one of Stiles few art projects. "I thought you told him someone was here?"

"Yeah, but that was just to get him over here," I replied, as if it were obvious. "You're the most wanted man in Beacon Hills, you can't just stay in here with us."

"W-Well Danny doesn't know what he looks like," Stiles piped, spinning away from his computer.

"I don't want to take any chances," I responded firmly, heading for the door.

"Wh-? No! I'm not having him just sit alone in my house unsupervised!" I rolled my eyes, hand on the doorknob.

"Stiles, he's a werewolf not an untrained puppy."

"No!" Stiles insisted. "He's not wandering the house by himself."

"Fine," I groaned. "Then I'll watch him."

"No!" Stiles repeated, even more adamant. "Y-You have to be here! With me and Danny? Do I need to remind you of the fact that Danny doesn't really like me?!"

"Then what do you suggest we do?" I snapped. Stiles shrugged, glaring slightly at his unwelcome guest.

"He's gotta stay—quietly—in here." I crossed my arms over my chest, turning to Derek who was standing by the wall watching the two of us with a thoroughly unamused expression. I raised a finger, pointing at him in an almost scolding manner.

"Sit in the chair and don't say a word," I ordered. Derek simply raised his eyebrows at the command, silently asking, _"Really?"_ I brandished a finger at the chair. Derek rolled his eyes, but eventually followed my instructions, collapsing into the chair I'd been occupying and pulling large book toward him to occupy himself. I nodded slightly with a huff, crossing my arms over my chest once more. I stood there awkwardly for a few seconds before marching back to the bed, snatching up the box of cookies and hurrying out into the kitchen. I stayed there until the doorbell rang, at which point I rushed to let Danny in.

"Thank God," I gushed as I pulled him into the house. Danny smirked.

"Is it really that bad?"

"You're my hero," I replied, leading the way back to Stiles's room.

"Good," Danny chirped, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder as he followed me. "You can start making it up to me by making one of those cool signs to support me at the game tonight. Just because goalies don't run around the field doesn't mean we don't need encouragement."

"Deal," I laughed, before stepping into Stiles's room.

"H-Hey!" Stiles cheered as we entered the room. "Hey, Danny! What's up, bro?" Danny raised an eyebrow at him. I grinned, patting the goalie's shoulder.

"Play nice," I whispered, before walking back over to Stiles's bed and collapsing on it. I rolled onto my stomach, crossed my ankles in the air, pulled my biology binder in front of me and flipped it open to our latest lab, most of which I had already completed with Lydia.

"Let's just get started on the lab," said Danny, shaking his head a bit at Stiles's antics. The pale boy laughed, raising a hand to scratch the back of his neck.

"Ha, well yeah, about that," he started nervously, making me roll my eyes. "I was kind of hoping I could ask you for a tiny, like miniscule little favor." If Danny looked over at me to check if I knew what was going on, I missed it, staring hard down at the pages in my binder instead.

"I'm not doing it for you," Danny warned, turning to face him full on. Stiles chuckled anxiously.

"No, uh, it's actually—it's actually not about bio, I uh…I was hoping you could help me trace a text…"

"What? Why?" Danny asked immediately, face screwing up in confusion.

"Well, uh, a little while back a uh, like a friend of a friend, of a friend's friend got a text from someone but it wasn't actually like that person, and I was hoping you could help me out…?"

"You want me to do what?!" Danny barked, glaring down at my twitchy friend.

"Trace a text," Stiles repeated, waving his hands in a feeble attempt to reason with him.

"I came here to do lab work," Danny responded in annoyance. "That's what lab partners do!"

"And we will," Stiles half-groaned, "once you trace the text!"

"And what makes you think I know how?" Danny challenged, towering over Stiles who was slouched in his computer chair.

"I…I looked up your arrest report, so…" Danny's eyes widened, and he glanced over at me again, this time slightly more embarrassed than enraged.

"I-! I was thirteen!" he objected. "They dropped the charges."

"Whatever," Stiles replied with a shrug, undeterred. If Danny had the skills and wasn't a convicted felon, that just made the entire situation easier.

"No! We're doing lab work!" Danny demanded with finality.

"Oh my…" Stiles groaned, rolling his eyes but turning to his desk just the same. I sighed slightly as Danny settled down on the stool next to him, causing him to glance over at me. I gave him a small smile, but Danny's eyes slid right past me to Derek. I noticed his eyes widen marginally, and he leaned in to Stiles.

"Who's he again?" he whispered, jabbing a thumb at the brooding werewolf. Stiles glanced back, looking first to Derek, then me.

"Uh, my cousin…Miguel…" I immediately ducked my head, hand over my mouth as I snickered into my homework. I could practically feel the rage rolling off Derek in waves as he slowly raised his head to glare at his beloved "cousin."

"Is that blood on his shirt?" Danny asked quietly, glancing over at the pair of us again. Stiles's head jerked up from his work, looking quickly back at us once more.

"Yeah, yes," he agreed, leaning back in his chair and casually draping an arm over the back. "Well, he gets these horrible nosebleeds…Hey, Miguel!" Derek and I both looked over at them. I was trying to suppress my laughter, though it seemed like Derek was trying to suppress his urge to kill. "I thought I told you, you could borrow one of my shirts." Derek's glare slid from Stiles to me, and I gave an encouraging nod. He aggressively snapped his book shut, tossing it next to me on the bed as he walked over to Stiles's dresser. Then, without a second thought, he yanked the thin grey shirt over his head.

Now, I'd seen plenty of shirtless boys before, but pretty much only in the context of the beach. Shirtless boys in jeans in people's bedrooms were not part of a department I was very experienced in. As far as I was concerned, Derek Hale was not a bad choice for a first, either. I immediately raised my eyebrows, scanning the tan skin pulled tight over strong, bulging muscles. I smirked, tilting my head to the side as Derek turned slightly, letting me inspect the swirling black tattoo that marked the space between his shoulder blades. Even objectively, any single person in their right mind had to admit he was attractive. Stiles let out a choked noise.

"God! Yo! Dude! Come on! We've got company!" Stiles brandished an arm over to where I was lounging on the bed.

"Oh no," I replied, holding up my hands quickly before using them to support my head as I propped myself up on my elbows. "I'm not even here." Derek completely ignored the comment, though Stiles didn't. I could sense his glare attempting to smother me from across the room, but my eyes were still on Derek, following his motions as he began to rummage through Stiles's dresser.

"So," Stiles began through clenched teeth, turning back to Danny. "We both know you have the skills to trace that text so…"

"Uh, Stiles?" Derek interrupted, pulling a shirt out of one of the drawers.

"Yes?" Stiles replied in annoyance. I bit my lip, mostly to keep myself from laughing out loud, though I noted that Derek's chest was just as impressive as his back.

"This?" Derek held up a striped shirt before tugging on it slightly, making the muscles in his arms ripple. "No fit."

"Then try something else on," Stiles hissed angrily. I raised a hand to cover my mouth, attempting to keep myself from giggling as I turned to the desk. I nearly failed when I caught Danny, hands in his lap and quickly ducking his head as "Miguel" spoke to them. My eyebrows climbed higher and I pressed my hand harder over my mouth to muffle my laughter. Stiles glared at me, one eye nearly twitching in annoyance. I gave him a pointed look, jerking my head to Danny. Stiles glanced over at his teammate, annoyance completely dissolving as he noticed Danny casting another sidelong glance at Derek's shirtless form. Stiles stared at him in wonder for a moment, turning back to look at Derek, who was bent over looking for another shirt. I nodded to him, waving an arm to usher him along. Stiles grinned. "Hey!" he cheered, looking back as Derek pulled on a particularly unflattering orange and blue shirt. "That one looks pretty good, huh?" He tapped Danny lightly on the arm, making him glance back at Derek, who looked like he might need to be physically restrained from slaughtering Stiles on the spot. "What do you think, Danny?"

"Huh?" Danny muttered, feigning confusion as he stared hard at Stiles's laptop.

"The shirt," Stiles elaborated lightly, gesturing over at Derek. Danny glanced over at him nervously.

"It's…it's not really his color."

"I agree," I added, nodding sagely. "Next." Derek glowered at me as he tugged the shirt over his head. Stiles, however, simply returned to the task at hand. I had to strain to hear him as he leaned over to whisper to Danny.

"You swing for a different team, but you still play ball don't ya, Danny boy?"

"You're a horrible person," Danny grumbled.

"I know. It keeps me awake at night," Stiles replied, completely at ease. "Anyway, about that text…"

"Stiles!" Derek barked, snatching up another shirt and brandishing it at him, still gloriously shirtless. "None of these fit!" Stiles and I both smirked devilishly, turning to look at Danny as his eyes flitted over Derek's chest. Finally, he broke.

"I'll need the ISP, the phone number and the exact time of text," he instructed, pulling the laptop over to him. Stiles leaned back in his chair, throwing his arms in the air in celebration and letting out a sigh of relief. I turned my smirk to Derek, who was still glaring at me.

"Uh, hey!" Stiles added turning around and brandishing a finger at his "cousin." "You, shirt, now."

"I don't think we need to be in any rush," I teased, shaking my head. Both Stiles and Derek glared at me viciously. I rolled my eyes, flipping over and climbing off the bed so I could join Derek at the dresser. "Okay Miguel, let's find you a shirt."

"I hate you," he replied in a growl, making me grin.

"And I'm okay with that," I retorted happily, patting his bare shoulder for good measure. Stiles coughed from behind me.

"Uh, shirts are like top two on the left. Don't—Don't go in the right. That's like, socks…" I scrunched up my face, promptly sliding my hand to the left side of the dresser and beginning the hunt for a T-shirt big enough to fit Derek properly.

It took a fair bit of searching, but eventually we were able to find him a charcoal grey shirt for the werewolf to wear. It was still a little snug, but when I'd cracked that he looked better that way, I'd earned myself a solid smack on the back of the head. Apparently, me being a teenage girl didn't mean Derek had any reservations about hitting me.

By the time Derek was fully dressed once more, we only had to wait a few minutes before Danny had an answer. At my silent insistence, Derek leaned heavily on the back of Danny's chair, hands firmly behind his shoulders, while I paced around behind Stiles. Finally, Danny sighed with finality.

"There," he piped, with a final flourish on the keyboard. We all looked up, turning and leaning in towards the computer with dangerous interest. "The text was sent from a computer. This one." He jabbed a finger at the bottom of the screen, gesturing to two red lines of the most confusing text I had ever found myself reading.

_"Account registered to:  
__Beacon Hills Hospital – Melissa McCall"_

"What?" I breathed, leaning in for a closer look over Stiles's shoulder.

"Registered to that account name?" Derek clarified, also squinting at the screen in confusion. Danny nodded slightly, and Stiles subconsciously leaned back, away from the computer and the unwelcome information.

"No, no, no. That can't be right."

"Well it is," Danny assured him, a tad annoyed that his accuracy was being questioned. "What's going on? I mean, that's Scott's mom right?"

"Yeah, yeah that's Scott's mom," Stiles confirmed, slouching back in the chair as he stared at the computer.

"Why is she texting your friend's friend or whatever?" Danny asked curiously. Despite the lurch in my stomach, I plastered an uneasy smile on my face.

"God, that's a relief," I sighed.

"It is?" Derek asked as all three boys turned to look at me in confusion.

"Yeah, well it explains a lot."

"It does?" Stiles asked. I wanted to glare at him, but under Danny's gaze the best I could manage was a passive aggressive smile.

"Yes, Stiles. It was clearly just a joke. Payback for that thing we did to piss her off a while back."

"Wha-?" Stiles began, but I discreetly moved my hand to pinch him hard on the shoulder. "O-Ah! Yes!" he agreed suddenly, turning his yelp of pain into a sound of realization. "Yes, that. That makes sense. Thank you for clearing that up."

"So everything's okay, right?" Danny asked, looking between the two of us uneasily. Stiles and I beamed.

"Yup! Great!" I nodded.

"Absolutely perfect. Thanks for your help, bro."

"Don't call me bro," Danny instructed, scrunching up his face slightly. Stiles's smile fell.

"Okay!" I cheered. "Let's get to that biology homework!"

"Wh-What?" Derek demanded, practically scowling at me. "You want to do homework?"

"B-But I uh, I'm done with my lab!" Stiles lied.

"You're what?" Danny asked in disbelief. I turned to glare at Stiles, arms crossed.

"No, Stiles. Homework, lacrosse game. We can deal with this later." Derek looked about to object, but I held up a hand, surprising even myself when I was able to silence him with a single finger. Reluctant and frustrated, both boys agreed to finish the non-supernatural work first.

As soon as the Stiles and Danny had completed their lab, Danny had made a quick, flustered exit, waving goodbye to "Miguel" and kindly informing me that I was on my own. However, rather than being upset by the exit, Derek, Stiles and I were all relieved to have the house to ourselves once more.

"It's not Scott's mom!" Stiles defended, pacing back and forth around the room. Derek was standing by the door, feet firmly placed shoulder-width apart and arms crossed over his chest as he stared down at the floor, and I had returned to my seat on the end of Stiles's bed.

"No, she's not the Alpha," Derek agreed, not looking up. "I should have been able to sense it. But that doesn't mean she's not working for him."

"No!" Stiles objected sharply, and I similarly shook my head.

"I don't think so," I disputed. "I highly doubt she knows anything about what's going on, frankly. It wouldn't be too hard for someone to hack the computer."

"Why would they do that?" Derek asked, glancing up from the carpet. I shrugged.

"To make sure we reacted exactly like this if we traced it," I suggested. "We know the Alpha's after Scott. I'm sure they know where Mrs. McCall works, and if we thought it was her we'd be stalled and confused, start investigating a bunch of dead ends." Stiles rapidly nodded in agreement, brandishing a finger at me as the speed of his pacing increased.

"Yeah, yeah, that's gotta be it," he conceded. "This thing is smart, it had to know to cover its bases, that we'd try to trace the text if we made it out alive. It's—It's like a red herring!"

"Then what are we supposed to do about it?" Derek growled, clearly aggravated by the lack of obvious answers.

"We check the hospital," Stiles decided, clapping his hands once before resting them on his hips. "Show Mrs. McCall the trace proof we've got, and then if she doesn't know anything she can help us find who hijacked her computer."

"Yeah, that's probably the best plan," I agreed, glancing through the window at the darkening sky outside. "But she's not gonna be there tonight."

"What? Why not?" Stiles asked, pausing in his stride.

"I talked to her when I was there this morning," I informed him. "She got off to see the game."

"Damnit," Stiles cursed, deflating and hanging his head. "The game."

"Who cares about some stupid lacrosse game?!" Derek demanded, fully looking up then. "This is life and death! The Alpha is killing people!"

"Then what do we do?!" Stiles asked, throwing his hands out to the sides. The room was silent for a few seconds before I sighed.

"Divide and conquer," I offered, making both look at me. "Stiles, you go to the school. Tell Scott what we found and talk to Mrs. McCall if you can. Derek and I will go to the hospital."

"What? No!" Stiles objected. "What if the Alpha's there?!"

"Then I've got Derek," I reminded him, nodding towards the elder werewolf. Stiles opened and closed him mouth once or twice before shaking his head.

"I'm not letting you go investigate this or whatever without Scott and me."

"And I'm not letting you miss your first game as first line," I replied, standing up from the bed and walking over to stand in front of him. "Stiles, you have been working to get here for ages, okay? You deserve this."

"Yeah?" he countered. "Well everyone else deserves to not die!"

"You're not ignoring the problem. This is our best plan," I reminded him. "You stay with Scott, I stay with Derek, tackle the problem from two sides. Besides, Derek likes me better anyway." Stiles rolled his eyes at that, quickly glaring at the brooding werewolf who seemed to be politely pretending he couldn't hear us. I rested a hand on Stiles's shoulder, bringing his attention back to me. "Stiles, did you hear how proud of you your dad was? And he's gonna be there."

"Wha-? Oh! Y-You heard that?" Stiles stammered. I internally rolled my eyes. This was not the time to have this conversation.

"He's so excited to see you on that field. And I know you're excited to be there. Go play your game." Stiles stared at me for a few seconds, maple eyes boring into my russet ones. I breathed slowly through my nose, smile firmly on my face as I tried to ignore the butterflies that felt like they were throwing themselves at my stomach lining. Stiles's lips twitched into a smile as well, before fixing into a frown, eyebrows furrowed.

"I don't like it," he grumbled, crossing his arms and puffing his chest up. I rolled my eyes with a grin, recognizing the submission. I backed away to the bed, packing up my schoolwork and sliding the books and folders back into my bag on the floor.

"Gotta say, I don't particularly like hunting down murderous werewolves either. But someone's gotta do it."

"Are you sure about this?" Stiles asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Yeah," I assured him, pulling my bag on my shoulder and treading back over to him. "Go kick some ass." Stiles snorted, visibly still self conscious about his ability to play with the rest of the team. I smiled encouragingly. "Come on, I'll be back as soon as I can, and then I'll be there to cheer you on, your own sign and everything."

"You made me a sign?" he asked, eyes lighting up. I grinned.

"Of course I made you a sign," I replied. I stepped forward, pulling him into a hug by his shoulders. I felt the telltale heat creeping up the back of my neck as Stiles wrapped his arms around my lower back, tugging me close in a hug. I took a quick breath, taking in the lingering scent of cologne and curly fries, the faint smell of soap and sweat he hadn't managed to shake after lacrosse practice. I bit my lip, forcing myself to step away. "I'll be fine. I'll see you later," I promised, physically shaking his head back and forth with my hand on his forehead. He chuckled, batting my hand away. We both glanced over at Derek as he stepped forward, clearly signally that was the end of our goodbyes.

"What about you big guy?" Stiles asked, narrowing his eyes. "You want a hug too?" Derek glared at him for a moment, before his face quickly grew into a smile.

"Yeah," he agreed, making me smirk and Stiles's eyebrows climb up his forehead.

"W-What?" he stammered quickly, obviously not expecting a response to his taunt.

"Come here, Stiles," Derek beckoned, smiling dangerously. Cautiously, Stiles took about two steps toward him, letting the werewolf close the rest of the distance. Then without warning, Derek raised a hand and punched Stiles hard in the shoulder. Stiles yelped, grabbing at his shoulder and doubling over after he'd scrambled back over to me, a safe distance from all werewolf-appendages.

"Oh God! What the hell was that for?!" he cried, and I tried to contain a giggle as I rubbed his back soothingly.

"You _know_ what that was for!" Derek barked, brandishing a finger at him. Then he snatched up his leather jacket and stormed out of the room. I shook my head slightly, patting Stiles's back once more.

"Put some ice on that," I instructed, heading for the door. "Go get ready! You're gonna be late! Good luck."

"Hey, Sadie," Stiles piped, calling me back. I paused in the doorway, turning around to face him. One hand was still clutching his shoulder, but he was watching me steadily. He gave a little nod, throwing me a small, lopsided grin. "Be careful, kay?" I nodded.

"I'll talk to you later, Stiles," I bid. Then, I winked and hurried down the hall. Derek was waiting for me by the front door, arms crossed and eyebrows raised in a semi-expectant expression.

"What?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at him. He simply shook his head, lips twitching up into an expression just short of a smirk as he opened the door for me. I huffed, twirling my keys around my finger as I blew past him. "Let's just get this over with," I grumbled. I quickly ushered Derek into the van, unwilling to let him spend any more time than necessary outside where someone might recognize him. Then I hopped into the driver's seat and pulled out onto the road, attempting to brace myself for whatever Derek and I would find at the hospital.

* * *

**A/N: Ah, I am so, so sorry this is kind of late. I actually had a life this week, doing a bunch of non-laptop related activities, so writing and posting got delayed. But it's up now! A lot of Stiles and Derek in here, so I hope that makes up for it. I've been dying to write the Miguel scene for ages. It's probably my favorite moment in all of season 1. Couldn't have Sadie pass that up.**

**Anyway, thank you for the new follows and favorites and reviews! Numbers are climbing up there and I'm so excited! Thanks for the lovely feed back I got from becca1130, XLostxinxWonderlandX314, A Cool Guest, ScornedxRose, Kelly1432, vanillaclouds101, GetsueiNoYume, CypherToorima, Isaac fan, SammieLuvsFood, FlyingNargles, xxxxninaxxxx, SimplyKelly, TameTheGhosts, Lucy Greenhill, xALFiex, bbymojo, LynZann, MS. QUEEN21, SilenceFalling, Krisseh, Nelle07, E, prettyargents, ellisbellisballs, This is a Creative Name, forlornwriter and LionHeartMisfit! You are all SO wonderful!**

**Thank you again to everyone for reading, and I can't wait to hear what you have to say about the update!**

**EDIT: Thanks to tumblr user lostinwonderland314, there's a polyvore outfit for Sadie's outfit in this chapter. Link is on my profile if you're interested. Thank you!**

**-Brittney**


	25. Chapter 25

_"Did you get the picture?"_ Scott's voice asked over the phone. Derek and I were currently sitting in the hospital parking lot, waiting out an officer who had ducked inside. I had wanted to go in anyway, but Derek was adamant than neither of us enter the building until the police were gone. He was a wanted felon, and if he were recognized with me in the hospital, or alone in my car outside, it would cause major problems. At least if we were both in the car outside we could get away. Just as the cruiser had pulled away, my phone went off, alerting me to a picture of Allison's necklace that Scott had obtained from her room.

"Yeah," I replied. "Compared it to the drawing and it looks exactly the same." Derek grabbed my arm roughly, pulling the phone closer to him so he could speak into it without yelling. I glared, hurriedly moving in my seat so my arm wasn't torn off.

"Hey, is there something on the back of it?" he called into the cell. "There's gotta be something. An inscription, an opening, something!" I wrenched my arm away from him, twisting my wrist back and forth.

"Get your own damn phone," I growled, but reluctantly put the phone on speaker, holding it out between the two of us to avoid any future injuries.

_"No, no, the thing's flat,"_ Scott informed us. _"And no, it doesn't open. There's nothing in it, on it, around it, nothing."_

"So if it's just a family heirloom, that means it's just has to do with the Argents, right?" I asked, looking over at Derek.

_"What would the Alpha want Allison's family?"_ Scott asked with more than a hint of worry.

"They're hunters," I replied with a shrug. "There's gotta be loads of werewolves with vendettas against them, right?" Derek furrowed his brow, taking the thought into consideration, but Scott's frustrated sigh cut off anything he might have said.

_"Sadie, where are you?"_ he hissed, lowering his voice. Assumedly, he wasn't sitting too far from Stiles. _"The game's gonna start in a couple minutes, and I don't mean to be pushy but Stiles is freaking out."_ I sighed, glancing up at the hospital before looking down at my phone sadly.

"Yeah, I know I… We got a little caught up, but I'll be there as soon as I can," I assured him. "Just remind him to take a couple deep breaths, okay? He worked hard for this."

_"Do you wanna talk to him?"_ Scott asked.

"No!" I replied quickly. "Uh, no. I should go, just… Just tell him I'm on my way and I'm gonna be a little late okay?"

_"Yeah,"_ Scott sighed. _"Yeah, sure."_

"Okay. Good luck," I wished, and I could imagine Scott nodding on the bench, hear the chatter of the excited crowd behind him.

_"You too, Sadie."_ Then the line disconnected. Derek and I sat in silence for a few seconds as I tucked the phone back into my pocket and stuffed the car keys into my purse.

"You're not gonna make it," Derek informed me, in a voice much gentler than I was expecting. My heart clenched and I took a deep breath.

"I know," I sighed, closing my eyes and rubbing a hand down my face. "But lacrosse games are pretty long. I just have to get there before it's over so I can congratulate him. He's gonna be on the field. He won't even notice I'm not there."

"Yeah he will," Derek argued, leaning back in his seat. After a moment, he continued, "What about that sign you were supposed to make him?"

"Wow, thank you, Derek," I spat, glaring at him as I smacked the steering wheel sharply. "You get an award for making me feel even more like shit." Derek turned away, looking up at the hospital through the windshield. I sighed, running a hand through my hair and trying to ignore the guilty weight sitting in the bottom of my stomach. "Maybe Lydia will remember to grab it. Bet that'd kick him into high gear." We sat in silence for a few more seconds, not necessarily uncomfortable but certainly heavy.

"You know," Derek started conversationally. "You guys might want to think about learning to control your heart rates. Being around you two is starting to give me a headache."

"Okay, I am not having this conversation with you," I snapped, eyes wide and hands in the air. Derek sighed.

"Look, I know you and Stiles are…"

"Nope!" I cut him off. "I'm going in first. Bye." Before Derek could say another word, I grabbed my purse and slid out of the front seat, jumping out of the car and slamming the door behind me. "Unbelievable," I grumbled under my breath. I stormed up to the building, glancing back and forth in the darkness and wrapping my arms around my torso. I quickly entered through the sliding glass doors, striding through to the waiting room almost on autopilot.

I'd walked through an entire hallway before something suddenly hit me. The hospital was almost completely silent. Not the kind of silent it was supposed to be, like a library or maybe a museum, but an utterly and unsettlingly silent. I looked up and down the hall, finally realizing the problem. The hospital seemed to be deserted. All of the patients' rooms were shut, and if I listened closely I could still hear the beeping and whirring of machines behind them. But there didn't seem to be any one else on the floor, no staff nurses, doctors, secretaries, not even a worried family member there after visiting hours. Empty buildings can be creepy at the best of times, but seeing as this was a hospital, which should never be empty at any time, and I was alone investigating a serial killing werewolf, I was suddenly on high alert. My eyes continued to scan my surroundings, and I slowly crept down the hall as one hand pulled my phone back out of my pocket. Quickly and quietly as I could, I dialed Derek's number.

_"So how are you planning to find out if someone else used her account?"_ he asked, getting straight to business as soon as he answered his phone.

"Well, I was hoping to bullshit my way through an inquisitive conversation with a nurse she was friends with or something," I explained. "But it looks like that's not an option."

_"What? Why not?"_

"Derek, there's no one here. Literally no one."

_"Sadie,"_ Derek sighed, _"it's a hospital. There's gotta be someone there."_

"Well unless all of the doctors and nurses have suddenly become invisible, everyone is definitely AWOL," I grumbled. I peeked my head around a corner, looking both ways down the abandoned corridor before heading towards the waiting room.

_"Does it look like an attack?" _he inquired in a tense voice. I shook my head.

"No, there isn't any blood or bodies. Everyone's just…gone…"

_"Okay, where are you?"_ he pressed.

"I'm in the waiting room," I informed him, spinning on the spot in the middle of the empty space. Each of the hallways that met here seemed to be similarly empty.

_"Okay, check the second door on the left. That's where they're keeping my uncle. He's got a full time nurse, her name's Jennifer."_

"Sure," I replied quietly, before quietly padding over in that direction. I stopped short, however, when I noticed the door was open. Every other door in hallway had been shut except this one. I held my breath, the knot in my stomach tightening steadily. Cautiously, I peeked my head inside the room. There was a standard hospital bed, pink sheets pulled up neat and flat, and a very empty black wheelchair. I hadn't ever seen Derek's uncle, but judging by the second hand story I'd received from Stiles, he was definitely supposed to be occupying that chair, unresponsive and safely locked in his room. "Derek…he's not here," I managed to tell him. I looked all around the room, but there was hardly a sign that it had ever been occupied.

_"What?!"_ Derek demanded.

"He's not here. The room's empty," I repeated, trying to keep myself calm. Okay. It's not like there was only one wheelchair in the hospital. Perhaps he'd been moved to a different room temporarily. Wheeling someone around the hospital could be therapeutic, right? Even if he was in a coma. But I knew that something had to be deeply wrong. I though back to what little information I knew, what Stiles had told me that Scott said Derek told him. Derek's uncle had once been a werewolf, and having a missing, vegetated werewolf on our hands could not be a good sign. Derek confirmed my suspicions barely a moment later.

_"Sadie, get out!"_ he roared over the phone. I jumped slightly at the sudden volume, taking an involuntary step back into the hallway. _"Get out of there right now! It's him! He's the Alpha!"_ I took two more steps back into the hall, eyes still scanning over the room. Finally, my senses caught up to my brain. I turned for the door, and then through a glance over my shoulder down the dark, empty hallway. Only it wasn't empty any more.

I jumped again, a sharp intake of breath giving away my surprise. Standing just a few paces down the hall, leaning casually against the wall, was Derek's uncle. I had never seen him, but recognized him instantly by his half destroyed face. The left side of his head was completely normal, handsome even, but his right… The skin was puckered and pink, rippling and torn from year old burns, a horrible souvenir from the Hale house fire. Besides that, though, he appeared to be in perfect condition. He was tall, maybe just a tad taller than me, and seemed to be standing just fine without his wheelchair. The standard hospital gown was gone, traded for a black shirt with a high collar, a grey button down layered over it, black pants and a long black overcoat. Wavy, brown hair was brushed back, and a pair of clear blue eyes was watching me carefully, calculating my every move. Certainly not the eyes of a six-year coma patient.

"You must be Sadie," he greeted in a calm, soft voice. He smiled at me, and I winced, watching as the one side of his lip pulled up obediently, the burned side merely twitching as the muscles fought to cooperate. My mouth hung open slightly, phone still clenched in my hand. I spun around, preparing to sprint for the exit, but stopped short when I found a strict looking nurse standing in my path, the first nurse I'd seen all night.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice sickly sweet. "Visiting hours are over." She glared at me menacingly, and I stumbled back a few paces. My brain fought to keep up, attempting to process all of the information that was being thrown at me. I was alone in a fairly empty hospital, my only company a werewolf and a psycho nurse. Derek's uncle was apparently not a vegetable, and instead was the incredibly powerful Alpha werewolf who had attacked me and almost killed me on two occasions. I wasn't sure how much of his injury had been faked, but his nurse clearly knew about it. At a guess, she'd been hiding his rapid healing process and followed his instructions to lure Allison to the school with a text from her co-worker's computer. I was trapped in an empty hospital with both of them. And I was still missing the lacrosse game.

"Now, now, Jennifer," Derek's uncle crooned, "Try not to be so intimidating. The poor girl's frightened enough as it is." He looked back to me, smiling in that very disconcerting way. "I've heard a lot about you, Sadie. I'm afraid we haven't been properly introduced."

"Peter," I blurted quickly. Derek's uncle raised his one, intact eyebrow. "Peter Hale," I repeated, trying to keep my breathing and heartbeat steady, though it must be obvious how terrified I was. "Brought in with extensive, full body burns after the Hale fire. Your picture was in the paper." Peter's smile widened.

"I see you've done your homework, Miss Bennet. And I admire the way you're attempting to control your heart rate."

"Yup," I replied shakily. "Well, Peter, Jennifer, it's been nice meeting you, but I have a lacrosse game to get to." I turned around to face Jennifer once more, but she took another threatening step towards me.

"You know, it's very impolite to walk away when someone is trying to speak to you," Peter mused, pushing himself off the wall to stand free, his hands clasped in front of him. I turned back to him with a glare.

"I'm pretty sure it's also impolite to chuck someone against a car," I snapped. Peter let out an airy chuckle.

"I am sorry about that. I was trying to be gentle."

"You weren't," I shot firmly. I was shifting on my feet, legs apart and slightly bent as I unconsciously prepared for one of them to pounce at me. Peter noticed my ready stance.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Sadie," he assured me, with a near pitying smile.

"Right," I agreed, not relaxing a single muscle. "You just want Scott to kill me." Peter's smile never faltered.

"I just want to help Scott reach his full potential," he replied calmly, giving me a pointed, calculating look. "That doesn't have to involve killing _you_. In fact, I'd prefer it didn't." Though I didn't relax, the statement had made me pause. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion, watching as Peter's strange grin grew ever wider.

Suddenly, there was a loud thump behind me. I jumped, spinning around to see Derek, glowering past me at his uncle. Jennifer the nurse was crumpled on the ground, blood seeping from her nose where Derek had elbowed her in the face. I glanced between the two werewolves. Even with his accomplice down, and his nephew glowering at him looking downright murderous, Peter seemed entirely unconcerned.

"That's not nice," he commented dryly. "She's my nurse."

"She's a psychotic bitch helping you kill people," Derek growled, keeping his eyes on his uncle. "Sadie, get out of the way." I glanced at Peter once more before dashing over to Derek, standing just behind his right shoulder. I eyed the nurse's crumped body warily, but she seemed genuinely down for the count. I didn't have much time to be worried though, because as soon as I was safely behind Derek, Peter had begun to advance on him.

"You think I killed Laura on purpose?" he asked darkly, striding forward with his hands at his sides. "One of my own family?"

Apparently, that was exactly what Derek thought. He pushed me farther behind him, lunging back and letting out a feral growl. Then he leapt forward, jumping up onto the wall to give himself the higher ground. He pushed off, pouncing forward at Peter, who easily took a step back, grabbing his nephew's chest and using his momentum to slam him into the opposite wall. I winced, one hand flying up to my mouth. The breath completely knocked out of him, Derek sagged, letting himself be thrown against another wall like a rag doll with enough to knock the railing off the wall. He winced, collapsing to the floor and covered in dust from the cracked walls. Smoothly, Peter leaned forward, grabbing Derek by the throat and lifting him into the air. He dragged him back down the hall, back towards me, letting his nephew's feet skim the ground as he tried to find his footing.

"My mind, my personality, were literally burned out of me," Peter informed him calmly. I scrambled back as he approached, tripping and pressing myself against a wall. "I was being driven by pure instinct." Derek fell to the ground as his uncle released him, grabbing at his throat as he tried to get his air back into his lungs. Peter sent me a brief smile before bending down to his nurse's unmoving body. He reached into her pocket, pulling out a set of keys and stuffing them in his pocket.

"You want forgiveness?" Derek growled, jumping back to his feet. He swung his right fist, punching Peter square in the face. The Alpha, however, seemed barely affected. He blocked Derek's next attempt to punch him in the throat, instead grabbing him by the front of his jacket and butting his head into his collar. Derek stumbled back, struggling to stay upright.

"I want understanding," Peter corrected him, before lifting his foot and kicking his nephew in the chest. Derek flew back, his back slamming into the ground and flipping over, landing hard on his stomach. He choked out a gasp and my hand flew over my mouth once more. I'd never seen Derek fight, but surely he had to be more powerful than this. He still looked completely normal, not even in wolf-form. And then it occurred to me, as Derek spat a mouthful of blood onto the tile.

_"I was impaled through the chest! A wound like that doesn't just heal in a day or two!"_

I wasn't completely sure, but perhaps Derek wasn't exactly back up to full power yet. Maybe it was because the wound was caused by an Alpha, which I'd read could be more detrimental. Maybe it was just because he was reluctant to hurt his own family, no matter vicious his uncle had become. Whatever the reason was, Derek was losing the fight, and I didn't see any solution.

"Do you have any idea what it was like for me during those years?" Peter hissed. Derek coughed, splaying more blood onto the floor. "Slowly healing, cell by cell. Even more slowly coming back to consciousness." I eyed Derek warily as he tried to push himself up onto his knees. I wanted to help him, but Peter was slowly striding forward, and even if he'd said he didn't want to kill me, I didn't want to risk my chances. "Yes, becoming an Alpha, taking that from Laura, pushed me over a plateau in the healing process," he continued. "I can't help that." Derek sprung up again without warning, swinging for his uncle's face, but Peter simply leaned back. He dodged two punches, blocked two punches, then grabbed Derek's fist and squeezed. Derek groaned, collapsing to his knees, and I could hear the cracking of bone from where I sat cowering a few feet away.

"Derek," I called warily. He winced, weakly motioning for me to run, but I found myself frozen to the spot. Peter smiled at me once more.

"He's fine," he assured me, though the blood falling from Derek's nose said otherwise. "I tried to tell you what was happening. I tried to warn you," he added, turning back to his nephew, writhing on the ground. Then he seized Derek by the front of his jacket once more, and threw him to the side. He flew high over the reception desk, smashing through a wall of glass and disappearing on the other side.

"Derek!" I screamed, but there was no reply. A few seconds later, there was the light tinkle of glass, scraping along the floor as I imagined Derek dragged himself along. Peter sighed.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," he apologized, turning towards me. He took a few steps forward, and I pressed myself desperately into the wall, knowing there was no way I could escape around him. "Would you mind joining us? We have to have a short family meeting." I scrambled back, pushing myself along the floor as Peter quickly advanced towards me. "Ah, ah, ah," he scolded, raising a finger. He'd extended his claws, and the sharp tip waved menacingly only a small distance from my face. "I really don't want to hurt you, Sadie. Everything will just be a lot easier if you come with me." He lowered his hand, holding it out to me to help me up. I simply stared at it, glancing frantically between his mutilated face, the shattered glass, the bleeding nurse on the floor, his offered hand. After a few seconds, Peter sighed. "Alright," he agreed quietly. He quickly grabbed my arm, wrenching me up to my feet with surprising force. I yelped, nearly feeling the skin bruise under his grip and definitely feeling the cuts where his claws had sunken into my skin. He shook his head, steering us both behind the desk in pursuit of his nephew. "I did warn you," he reprimanded, carelessly pulling me along. He retracted his claws, but his hand still kept a tight hold on my arm, forcing blood to seep out from under his hand. I tripped, bumping into a wall as I tried to avoid stepping on the larger pieces of glass and ramming my purse into my side.

_My purse! _

I glanced down at it, hoping Peter disregarded the spike in my heartbeat as a reaction to nearly falling in a pile of glass shards. Somehow, I'd managed to keep hold of my purse. I wracked my brains trying to remember… Yes. It should be fine. I tried to form some sort of plan in my head. There was no way I could take on Peter. There was no way he would let me escape. If I tried anything, I was sure he would keep his word about not _wanting_ to hurt me, but doing so anyway. But I had to get to Stiles and Scott.

We followed Derek all the way to the morgue, Peter's fingers digging into the flesh of my arm as we slowly paced behind his nephew. He forced me through the door ahead of him, acting as a slight shield should Derek decide to pounce once more. But Derek didn't look like he would be pouncing on anyone any time soon. He was slouched against the metal of the far wall, eyes slightly out of focus and the blood from his nose dripping down to his chin. Peter seemed to agree with my silent assessment, as he nudged me gently toward his nephew.

"Why don't you just sit down over there? Go on," he encouraged. My first two steps were slow, frightened that the Alpha would change his mind and rip me back to his side. But Peter made no move to stop me. I ran the rest of the way to Derek's side, kneeling on the floor next to him as I tried to wipe the blood off his face. He batted me away with a soft groan, and I relented, leaning my back against the wall next to him. "I was going to wait for dramatic flair," Peter began, drawing our attention back to him. "But…" He turned to face a small, round mirror attached to one of the metal tables. He twisted his head, inspected his rough, scared skin. Then he lifted a hand, spinning the mirror around so the light of the room was reflected, flashing against his skin as the glass spun round and round. As I watched, the skin on Peter's face smoothed out, stretching and paling until it was uniform over his entire face. He grabbed the mirror once more, abruptly stopping the rotation so that he could admire his handiwork. "When you look this good, why wait?" He turned to look at Derek and I expectantly, as if waiting for us to burst into applause at his wonderful trick. When we remained completely silent, he rolled his newly healed eyes and sighed. Then he shook his head a bit, returning to business. "Derek, you have to give me a chance to explain," he pleaded, leaning forward slightly. "After all…we're family." I could practically feel Derek's resolve crumbling next to me, and as much as that terrified me, I couldn't blame him. He'd gone so long without any family at all, losing most of them in the fire, losing Laura, basically losing his uncle, only for it to be revealed that Peter was well and alive again. As hard as Derek seemed to the outside world, I knew that was important to him. My chances were slim, but I had to try.

I reached out my right hand, sliding it over the floor to lay it over Derek's left. He glanced over at me, and I gave him a hard look. Peter was not my family, and whatever Derek was about to do, I was staying with Scott and Stiles. I had to get out of here to get to them, to warn them, to tell them what'd happened. Derek's eyes flitted over my face for a few seconds, before he slid his hand back. He pushed himself up on the wall, turning to face Peter who was watching him curiously.

"Why don't you explain this?" Derek suggested through clenched teeth, and threw himself at his uncle. Peter seemed at least marginally caught off guard this time, as both men went toppling to the ground. But I didn't have time to watch. I wrenched my purse from my shoulder, ripping the zipper open and searching, searching… Finally, my hand grazed the plastic, and I pulled the item from my purse. I turned back to the fighting werewolves, a pile of violent, flailing limbs and growls on the tiled floor. Finally, Peter managed to pin Derek underneath him. He sat up, pulling his arm back in preparation to punch him once more. I didn't give him the chance.

"Hey!" I yelled. Peter paused, glancing up at me just as I pulled the trigger. The blast doors fell off, probes shooting across the room and latching onto Peter's chest and immediately hitting him with an electric shock. He twitched slightly, obviously caught off guard by the attack. I held the taser steady, breathing hard but holding my finger on the trigger. Derek pushed Peter off him, trying his best to avoid getting tangled in the taser wires.

"Go!" he ordered, using the table to pull himself to his feet.

"But-!" I began to protest. Derek waved me off, even as he winced and put all his weight on the table.

"Go! Find Scott! Now!" I glanced down at Peter, who seemed to be smiling even as the electricity shot through his body. Reluctantly, I reached behind me for my purse, standing up with one hand still on the trigger. Then, quickly as I could, I released the cartridge and sprinted for the door. I wasn't sure how long it would take for Peter to recover, wasn't sure what Derek was planning to do. All I knew was I needed to get out of there as quickly as possible.

I tore out of the hospital, launching myself into the van and throwing my purse in the passenger seat. I fumbled with the keys, ramming them into the ignition and ignoring the screech of the tires as I sped out of the parking lot.

I wasn't sure how Peter and his nurse had managed to get the hospital completely empty, but the streets surrounding the area were deserted as well. That was good. At least I didn't have to worry about getting into an accident, or getting a ticket for my outrageous speeding. At the very least, I wouldn't be pulled over by the Sheriff, who was no doubt proudly watching Stiles at the game. In fact, it seemed everyone was at the high school watching the game. I hardly saw a single car until I was within a few blocks of the school, and all of those cars were driving in the other direction. I cursed under my breath. A procession of cars leaving the school meant one thing. The lacrosse game was over, and I had missed the entire damn thing.

But I didn't have time to think about how disappointed Stiles was going to be. I had to find him and Scott and tell them what I knew. So I sped past all of the vehicles leaving the school and found a parking space near the back entrance to the gym. I was just about to race out of the car when I caught sight of myself in the mirror. I just had on my Thor T-shirt, leaving my arms bare and the bloody claw marks left by Peter completely exposed. I cursed once more, quickly snatching a discarded zip-up hoodie from the back seat. I tugged it on and grabbed my purse once more, barely remembering to lock the car before I dashed into the building.

"Stiles?!" I yelled as I ran down the empty hallway that led from the field to the locker rooms. "Scott?!" The lights in the locker room were off, so I imagined all of the boys had showered and left already. I was about to let out another string of profanities, ready to sprint back to the car and drive to Scott's house, when another voice cut through the silence.

"Sadie?!" Stiles's high, frantic voice called back. My head snapped up, back towards the seemingly abandoned locker room. I sprinted over immediately, urgently skidding through the doorframe. But every thought of Derek, Peter, and werewolves flew out of my head the moment I saw the boys' forlorn faces. Scott wasn't even dressed yet, hunched over on a bench with a towel wrapped tightly around his waist, his hands on the back of his neck, head low but eyes on the door. Stiles was crouched in front of him, completely dressed in normal attire once more, but looking extremely upset. My stomach lurched.

"I am so sorry," I said immediately, but neither boy seemed to hear me.

"Are you okay?" Stiles demanded, quickly rising to his feet and keeping his eyes on my silhouetted form. I furrowed my eyebrows slightly.

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine." Stiles whispered something along the lines of, "Oh thank God," before rushing over to me and pulling me into a hug. I was taken completely by surprise, but was only able to enjoy it for a few seconds before a sting shot up my left arm. I hissed in pain, causing Stiles to pull back with a concerned and alarmed look. "Okay," I admitted with a wince. "Maybe not completely fine."

"Sadie," Scott interrupted, breathing deeply through his nose from his place still on the bench. "Are you bleeding?"

"What?!" Stiles asked in alarm, spinning back to me. His eye scanned over my body, searching in vain for the injury. Then he seemed to notice how my left arm was pressed slightly closer to my torso as I tried to keep myself from moving it too much. Without asking for permission, Stiles reached for my shoulders, grabbing the collar of the hoodie and pushing it off. He pulled it down my arms, gently as he could manage in his panic. Some calmer part of my brain wished I had the time to appreciate Stiles removing any article of my clothing, but the majority was focused on the horrorstruck look on his face. His eyes widened as he inspected the claw marks left in my arm, not nearly as deep as the cuts on Jackson's neck, but still deep enough to draw a significant amount of blood. His left hand held my sweatshirt limply at his side, nearly forgotten as his right hand grazed over the darkening bruises on my bicep. I watched him closely, unable to think of anything to say. Finally, he swallowed, jaw set and eyes closed for a moment. "What the hell happened?" he demanded in a low, controlled voice.

"It was Peter," I replied simply. The words sent my brain into hyperdrive, reminding me just why I was here late with an injured arm in the first place. "Peter Hale, Derek's uncle. Guys, he's…"

"The Alpha," Scott finished for me, nodding slightly from the bench. "We know."

"What?" I asked in confusion. "How?"

"They beat you here," Scott replied tentatively. "Peter…and Derek. They're working together now." They looked like they were waiting for me to scream, to yelp in surprise and betrayal. But all I did was sigh, lifting my left hand to my head and nodding. The movement caused Stiles to retract his hand, blinking and opening his mouth once or twice.

"Um, there's a…there's a first aid kit," he muttered, and then dashed away into the dark locker room. I trudged over to Scott, collapsing next to him on the bench.

"What happened?" he asked, almost gently. I ducked my head, letting my fingers probe at the bruise on my arm as I replied.

"Well, Derek and I were at the hospital. I went in after you called, but the place was completely deserted. Like hundred percent empty. I went to find his uncle and his nurse, but that room was empty too and that's when we realized what was going on. Derek came running in and took down the nurse and fought Peter, but he was losing pretty badly. Peter grabbed at me at one point, hence this." I paused to wince as my finger prodded the slice left by Peter's thumb, clearly the deepest incision on my arm, as well as the darkest bruise. "But Derek attacked him until I could taser him and get away."

"You tasered an Alpha?!" Scott repeated incredulously, caught somewhere between being impressed and horrified. I shrugged.

"Neither of them were wolfed out," I dismissed. "I'm not sure if Derek's still weak from Peter's attack at school, or if he was subconsciously holding back because he's his uncle."

"Well those are both pretty terrible excuses," Stiles replied from a few rows of lockers down. There was a slight clatter and a sigh as I assumed he managed to unearth the first aid kit he was searching for.

"I don't think so," I said quietly, making Scott look over at me.

"Are you freaking kidding me?!" Stiles demanded, appearing once more with the white box in his hands. "You're still defending him?! Sadie, he and Peter showed up here to try and get Scott to help them kill more people! Okay? Not just the five people he's already killed! More! Derek's siding with the lunatic who tore his sister in half and you're still okay with that?!"

"I'm not defending him!" I snapped, glaring at Stiles harshly. "I'm not saying he's right, I'm just saying I understand." Stiles shook his head in disbelief.

"What do you mean?" Scott asked. I sighed.

"Look, guys, Peter's the only family Derek's got left. At all. He doesn't want to be alone anymore, and that's blinding him to all the terrible things Peter's done. If it was my mom…I'm not sure if I could stop myself from siding with her either." Neither boy said a word. I felt I'd made a solid point, though neither of them wanted to admit it. After a few seconds, Stiles stepped forward, kneeling on the ground in front of me and opening the first aid kit. He pulled out some gauze and disinfectant wipes before glancing pointedly at Scott.

"Dude, could you like, go put some clothes on?"

"What? Oh," Scott commented, looking down at himself as if he'd only just realized he was wearing a towel. "Yeah, sorry." Scott quickly scampered away to his locker out of sight, opening it so he could change back into his normal clothes. Stiles shook his head slightly, turning back to my arm and beginning to clean the traces of blood away. I winced as he pressed against the deep wound once more.

"Sorry," he apologized immediately, hand jerking back. I shook my head.

"I'm fine." Stiles rolled his eyes, clearly disagreeing with my assessment but returning to cleaning my arm.

"You know," he began quietly after a few concentrated seconds of silence, "I'm pretty sure I told you that you weren't allowed to do this anymore."

"What?" I asked, squinting at him in confusion.

"Getting attacked, specifically by the Alpha," he clarified. I smirked, thinking back to the night I'd been attacked at the video store and Stiles had stood with me. It was one of the first times I'd thought back to the night fondly.

"True, and I said I wouldn't make a habit of it," I replied. "I don't think you can call two attacks a habit per say. I'm still in the clear."

"Three," Stiles corrected, glancing up at me through his lashes. "Video store, school, hospital. And Dad always says three is a pattern."

"Guess that's true," I conceded with a small smile. It was very easy for me to imagine Sheriff Stilinski teaching his son that. Actually, it was pretty easy to imagine my dad doing the same. "Sorry. I guess danger just comes with the territory of having a werewolf for a friend."

"Yeah," Stiles grumbled. "Still wish I didn't have to worry about you so much." I bit my lip at that. I watched him quietly as he worked, his right hand moving gently over my cuts while his left was wrapped carefully around my elbow, holding my arm in place.

"I'm sorry I missed the game," I apologized desperately. Stiles smirked, tossing the wipe aside and reaching for a bandage.

"Eh, it's fine," he dismissed.

"No. No, it's not," I argued, closing my eyes and still shaking my head. "It was your first game on first line."

"You were getting attacked," Stiles pointed out bitterly. "It's not like you ditched. Besides, I didn't get to play that much anyway."

"Why not?" I asked with concern. Stiles tossed his head to the side, letting out a breath that made his lips splutter comically.

"Well, when I was on the field no one seemed to think it was a good idea to pass to me, and then around half time Mesman showed up. Apparently he got these super strong eye drops, miraculously recovered from his pink eye. And then they put me back on the bench." I groaned, watching him sympathetically.

"That sucks."

"Not really," Stiles disagreed half-heartedly. "Nothing I'm not used to. I mean, hey, at least they let me stand on the field for a while. That was cool."

"Did Lydia at least bring my sign?" I asked hopefully, but deflated when Stiles shook his head.

"No. I mean, I don't think so. I didn't see it. You know, like it never like, caught my eye or anything," he rambled. I sighed, dropping my gaze to my lap. I half-noticed absent-mindedly that I must look like a wreck. I sat on the bench with my hair askew, T-shirt just a tad too small, and my thigh-highs that had slid down from all the running and activity, one clinging just above my knee while the other sat scrunched up over the swell of my calf. And Stiles was kneeing in front of me bandaging my arm.

"Well," I sighed. "I guess I'll just have to bring it next time."

"There's not gonna be a next time," Stiles lamented, tugging the wrap around my bicep. "Mesman being back means they've got enough players on first line. So that's the end of that."

"Of course there's gonna be a next time," I maintained. "Stiles, you worked hard for that spot. You'll get back out there eventually. And I solemnly swear that me and my sign will be there when you do." Stiles paused in his work, hands still holding my arm as he looked up at me. I offered him a small smile, but he just continued to stare at me placidly. Shadowed, sable eyes darted over my face, inspecting my eyes, my cheeks, my lips, darting down to my chest and Thor T-shirt before darting up again.

"Thanks," he managed to choke out quietly. I simply nodded, tongue unconsciously darting out over my lips for a moment. Stiles watched, and then suddenly he let go of my arm. "Uh, you're…you're done. That—That should be good," he offered, standing up and taking a few steps back.

"Oh." I jolted slightly, glancing down at my arm, which was indeed wrapped firmly in a bandage. "Yeah, thanks."

"I'm not first aid so…" He shrugged, but I shook my head, letting my fingers graze over my arm, testing his handiwork.

"No, it's fine. Uh, I'm fine. Thanks."

"Yeah, just uh…yeah. Please don't do it again." I chuckled nervously, holding up my right hand in a two-finger salute. Stiles nodded, also laughing, and then Scott reemerged fully dressed once more. I'd actually almost forgotten about him, but judging by the unimpressed look on his face, he'd been listening in to the entire conversation anyway.

"So what exactly did Peter say?" I asked him, reaching down to pull up my thigh-highs once more. Stiles let out a deep breath through his nose, and Scott sighed.

"He wanted me to join his pack," he informed me. "He was saying something about he needed my help, that he only wanted to kill the responsible people."

"Responsible for what?" I asked, scrunching up my face in confusion. Scott shrugged.

"He didn't say exactly. He just said that he wanted to help me reach my full potential, that my friends were holding me back, but…"

"But what?" I asked when he trailed off. Scott pursed his lips, hanging his head low while his hands played with the straps of his backpack. Then he glanced up at me cautiously.

"He said that I didn't have to kill Allison…or you…" I raised my eyebrows in surprise, thinking back to the hospital where Peter had told me something eerily similar.

"Which, you know, is comforting," Stiles comment dryly, evidently already informed that I'd been given a safe card. "At least we know he's not aiming to put you on the chopping block."

"But why?" I demanded. "I mean, Stiles and I are the only two people who know you're a werewolf. I'd say we're the people holding you back the most." Scott shrugged in agreement, shaking his head.

"I don't know. He just kept talking about potential, and then he stabbed me in the back of the neck with his claws." Scott reached up to rub the healing wound at the memory. "I started seeing all of these flashes of fire or the hospital, and people were screaming. P-Peter was younger and, and I saw those two guys from the park, and Derek's sister."

"They're memories," I explained, standing up from my seat. "It's what I was trying to tell you this morning. I went to see Dr. Fenris, and he said that there were legends of experienced werewolves being able to pass or extract memories from each other from a wound in the back of the neck. That's why you saw Peter's experience of the fire, and why your jackass lacrosse captain keeps dreaming of the Hale fire." Stiles nodded in understanding, while Scott continued to rub at the back of his neck. Suddenly, his eyes went wide.

"Damnit! Jackson!"

"I know, he sucks," I offered, crossing my arms angrily over my chest. Stiles smirked, but Scott shook his head.

"No, no. Allison brought her dad and her aunt to the game, and Kate saw the claw marks on Jackson's neck. She was talking to Mr. Argent about how he must be the other beta!" Stiles groaned, and I sighed angrily, grinding my teeth together.

"Awesome," I growled. "So he hasn't even gotten the bite yet and he's already got hunters on his ass. That's great. That's superb."

"What are we gonna do?" Stiles asked quietly. "About any of this? Allison's family wants to kill Jackson, and the only way to make you human is to kill the Alpha, who is now working with Derek." We all remained silent for a few seconds, staring at the floor as we contemplated just how big our problems were getting.

"Well, we keep helping Scott work on his control," I began. "Peter's gonna be stronger with Derek on his side, so even if we can't kill him, we have to make sure he doesn't force Scott into joining him." The boys nodded.

"And we keep an eye on Jackson," Scott added. I rolled my eyes.

"Okay, you guys can keep an eye on Jackson." Scott raised his eyebrows curiously, exchanging a confused look with Stiles. I huffed. "Look, if you're trying to protect him, I don't want to be there for it. He got himself into this mess by being an asshole."

"But he's still human," Scott pointed out. "He hasn't done anything to deserve getting killed."

"Well he threatened you," I listed, counting on my fingers, "wants to become a werewolf so he's better at lacrosse and more people will like him, tried to come on to me at lunch, and then dumped Lydia so he's scot-free to flirt with Allison so you give him what he wants. And that's on top of all the shit he's been doing for the last fifteen years of his petty life." Scott winced as Stiles's eyes widened.

"Woah, woah," he spluttered, waving his hands in front of him. "Jackson and Lydia broke up?"

"Via text," I conceded. Stiles's face warped into a very strange expression. He seemed to be fighting the urge to whoop in celebration, as well as holding himself back from bursting out of the locker room to pummel Jackson in the face. He was caught in a painful limbo between rage, sympathy and elation. My stomach dropped.

"We keep an eye on Jackson," Scott interrupted firmly. "I'm not letting him die because the hunters think he's me."

"Fine," I spat. I snatched my sweatshirt and pulled it back on over my bandaged arm, then grabbed my purse. "I'm gonna head home."

"Hey, Sadie…" Scott started, but I brushed him off, blowing right past a very confused Stiles. I wasn't in the mood to talk to him about his crush on Lydia at the moment.

"I'll see you guys tomorrow," I said shortly, before I stormed out of the locker room and back to the car, my stomach still clenched and, as I was horrified to discover, my eyes watering with unshed tears of anger and frustration. Perfect.

* * *

**A/N: I am so unbelievably happy that I got to write Peter, okay? Especially after last night, because wow Peter, wow. I hope you all enjoyed this! Things are starting to get pretty intense! Literally though, hold tight to your laptops, because the story will not slow down from this point on!**

**Thank you, as usual, to all you readers, favoriters, followers, and reviewers! I love hearing from you guys, always! Thank you to ScornedxRose, LoveLiveLife22, ellisbellisballs, vanillaclouds101, kaljara, MS. QUEEN21, Guest, CypherToorima, SammieLuvsFood, LynZann, xxxxninaxxxx, masqueraderose3, Lucy Greenhill, LifeToDeath, Elemenop22, becca1130, Isaac fan, Kelly1432, lilyllama, xALFiex, prettyargents, , KageNoUta27, GetsueiNoYume, MassisThehunter, OliviaMisfit, aaand LionHeartMisfit! You are all beautiful people!**

**I'm really, really excited to hear what you guys think of this chapter, and all of the chapters to come!**

**EDIT: Reminder once more, thanks to tumblr user lostinwonderland314, there's now a polyvore version of Sadie's outfit for this chapter. Link is on my profile if you're interested. Thank you!**

**-Brittney**


	26. Chapter 26

"So, I was thinking you, Scott and I should all hang out tomorrow. Have like a movie marathon or something. Try and get _some _sort of normality back in our lives."

Stiles and I were sitting across from each other in the cafeteria. Scott seemed to be taking a lifetime on the lunch line, something I noticed was becoming a frequent habit of his. I'd called him out on it once or twice, but he would simply deny it and continue smirking. Best I could guess, Scott had suddenly decided that the best thing he could do for me was to leave me alone with Stiles for as long as possible. So far, his tactic had had little effect. Stiles and I were free to talk more, about non-werewolf related things, but the pale boy was more focused on Lydia than ever. Ever since she and Jackson had broken up, it seemed like I couldn't have a single conversation with Stiles without him mentioning her, staring at her over my shoulder, or retreating into himself, presumably to think about her. That was usually the point where Scott swooped in, changing the subject back to werewolves and what we were supposed to do about Derek and Peter. We'd pretty much exhausted the subject, and it wasn't exactly enjoyable, but I was often grateful for any topic away from my strawberry blonde best friend. Despite the less than satisfactory results, Scott continued to leave us alone, listening in on our conversations and watching from afar, as he was clearly doing now from the lunch line.

"No can do," I replied to Stiles's offer. "I'm going shopping with Allison and Lydia tomorrow."

"Dress shopping?" Stiles guessed, raising his eyebrows curiously.

"Nope," I answered, waving a hand in the air while the other picked at my food. "Well, not really. Lydia's got some weird, four-tier system for dress shopping. Technically we've been searching for over a month. We're just going window shopping tomorrow."

"Any idea what you're gonna get?" he asked, stuffing about six French fries in his mouth simultaneously. I shook my head once more.

"Eh, not really. Lydia thinks I look good in purple, but I'm not so sure about you." Stiles glared at me playfully, choosing to respond by throwing a bit of fry at my face. I giggled, scrunching up my face and waving my arms as I tried to shield myself. Stiles smirked triumphantly, making me roll my eyes. "Anyway, I have a feeling it's not gonna be up to me. Lydia will probably decide on her own dress first and then choose something for me that doesn't clash."

"Green," Stiles said immediately. As always, his eyes slid away from my face, head turning to the side so he could watch Lydia and Allison conversing with laughter. "You should tell her to wear green. It makes her hair look really nice."

"I know, Stiles," I grumbled moodily. "I think that's probably the fourth time you've suggested it." Stiles quickly looked back at me, sitting up a little straighter.

"Sorry," he apologized, smiling sheepishly. I shrugged, looking down at my meal instead of actually accepting his apology. Stiles sighed. "It's just weird, you know?" he started. "Like…I think about her all the time, daydream and stuff, but when it's time to get back to reality…I don't know, it's like I could just look at her and Jackson and snap out of it. Like, 'she's never gonna notice you while she's with Jackson' but…Now she's not." Stiles's sable eyes strayed once more, watching my best friend with a pitiful, longing expression that made my stomach flop. "And I just can't stop thinking, like…maybe now that she knows who I am, I could be the one to help her get over Jackson. And I just can't keep that bit of hope down, you know?" I didn't respond. Instead, I just watched him, my eyes trailing over the pale skin, the scattered moles, parted lips and deep, desperate eyes pining for Lydia Martin. After a few seconds, Stiles glanced back at me, ducking his head. "Sorry, that…that didn't make any sense."

"No, it's fine," I dismissed, dropping my gaze to my lunch. "I get it."

"You do?" he asked curiously. I nodded without looking up, causing my hair to ripple around me.

"Yeah, I'm…I'm familiar with the feeling." Stiles remained silent, so I let out a deep breath, running my hand through my hair. "It's like…when you really, really like someone, but they like someone else. And you know the person they want isn't interested in them, isn't good for them, and you just want to make them see that. It's kind of impossible to keep yourself from hoping that somehow, they'll just turn around and see you one day, and you can help them get over it…that they'll realize you're really what they wanted all along. But they're just completely oblivious to you and…" I trailed off. After another moment, I forced myself to lift my head, meeting the caramel eyes that were watching me with confusion and interest. I shrugged, raising my eyebrows innocently. "It sucks." We sat in silence for a few moments, watching each other as if daring the other person to speak first. Finally, Scott slid his tray onto the table.

"Hey guys," he greeted with a nervous smile. "Sorry I'm late," he added. He looked at me pointedly, trying to communicate he was sorry he couldn't interrupt the conversation earlier. I shrugged while Stiles stuttered some assurance that it was fine. "So, what are we talking about?"

"Nothing," I answered before Stiles could respond. I felt both boys look at me curiously, but kept my gaze on my lunch tray. "Actually, you know, I just realized it's Friday, so I'm supposed to sit with Lydia. I'll see you guys around." Before either of them could stop me, I pulled my bag up onto my shoulder, grabbed my tray and stood up from my seat. I strode over to the table occupied by Allison and Lydia, trying to concentrate on my breathing and not the two confused stared boring into my back.

"Sadie, thank you for joining us," Lydia greeted in an attempt to be snippy. I grinned.

"Sorry. Lost track of the days," I replied, sliding into a seat across from them both, keeping my back to Scott and Stiles. Lydia smiled devilishly.

"Understandable. I would have gotten you myself but I decided to graciously let you have some time with your little crush." I sent her a short firm smile before looking down at my lunch. I knew it wasn't Lydia's fault. She was trying to be nice, supportive, urging me to spend time with Stiles even when she didn't like him that much. But she didn't realize the extent of his crush on her. With the three of us in the room, sometimes it felt like I wasn't even there. My "little crush." I was starting to think that was all it would ever be. I listened to Allison and Lydia talk about dresses, the colors and styles they wanted and what would look best on each of us. I nodded and threw in helpful or funny comments at the appropriate times, but it was all half hearted. How could I be excited about going to a dance when my date was one hundred percent focused on my best friend? Stiles didn't want to go with me, not really. He knew we'd have fun, but… If he was given a choice, there was no way he'd choose me, even when he'd already asked. If he was given a choice…

I was withdrawn for the rest of the day. Usually I was able to brush off Stiles and Lydia as nothing, a fact of the universe that I shouldn't be bothered by, but today they'd just put me in a bad mood. I could tell the boys were confused. Stiles even seemed a little wounded. Scott didn't try and push it though, thankfully. He did his best to keep his distance, and to make Stiles give me space. Allison seemed to realize what was going on as well. She'd shared one, long look with Scott as he dragged Stiles to a far off seat in study hall, then taken the seat behind me and rested a gentle hand on my shoulder. I was quietly thankful to have her as a friend. Allison did a wonderful job keeping my mind off everything, not talking about any boys or the dance. She did her best to keep Lydia from talking about it too, but Lydia was a force of nature all her own. Not even her two best friends would be able to keep her from her excitement about a formal, social event. Thankfully though, even Lydia had eased up on the boy-talk. Ever since Jackson had broken up with her, she'd been slightly less keen to talk about the male gender. She still shallowly chatted about the lacrosse team, and what boys were cute or vapid, but I had a feeling it was more out of habit than anything else. She'd quickly lined up a date with Mesman, the pink-eye-cured lacrosse player, for the formal, but that had been the end of it.

When the final bell rang, Allison squeezed me in a tight hug goodbye. She gave me a probing look, silently asking if I was okay without bringing up the problem once more. I returned it with a reassuring smile and a small nod before I ducked my head and hurried down the hallway. I didn't want Scott or Stiles to catch up to me.

By the time we climbed into the Beetle, Lydia seemed to finally notice that something was wrong. I stepped into the car and put my bag at my feet, put on my seatbelt and then turned to look out the window. It was the same thing I did every day, but my friend seemed to notice the slight mechanic quality to the motions. I looked over at her when she didn't start the car, raising my eyebrows.

"What's bothering you?" she demanded bluntly. I sighed, weaving my fingers through my hair as I leaned on the passenger door. "I'm not trying to be harsh," she amended, a little softer. "But I don't want to ask like 'is everything alright?' because I know it's not. So what's wrong?"

"Boy stuff," I replied tersely. Lydia nodded knowingly.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Do you want to talk about your boy problems?" I countered. Lydia flinched, sending a pang of regret through me. "Sorry," I muttered, sitting up straight once more.

"Is there anything I can do?" she pressed. I thought about that for a moment.

_"Tell Stiles you don't like him,"_ I could say. _"Tell him you're not interested. That there's someone else he should be with. Tell him to like me instead. He'll do anything you tell him to. Stop making everyone love you. Stop taking up all of Stiles's attention. Stop being perfect."_

"No," I sighed quietly. "There's nothing you can do. I'm fine. Thanks though."

Lydia nodded once more, having already guessed my answer. She started the car silently, and then put on my favorite of her CDs in an attempt to do something to comfort me. We spent the entire ride like that, listening to the music and quietly appreciating each other for our willingness to ignore our problems. Lydia did grab my arm when we got out though, stopping me from dashing into the house. She pulled me into a hug, resting her head against my shoulder. I squeezed back, taking comfort in her affection and ever-present smell of sweet perfume. We just stood in the driveway like that for a few minutes. Then, in unison, we released each other and went inside. Lydia knew she couldn't comfort me more than she already had, so she let me lock myself in my room for the rest of the night. That was good, because as much as I loved my best friend, she didn't realize that she was part of the problem. It wasn't her fault, there was nothing she'd done I could blame her for, but I still needed time away from her. I thought back to the night of the full moon, when Scott had yelled at me that I was nothing compared to Lydia. That feeling of insecurity had resurfaced again, only this time it was ten times worse. Scott comparing me to Lydia was nothing in contrast to _me_ comparing myself to Lydia, especially through Stiles's eyes. And whereas last time I had been able to go to sleep to avoid my self-consciousness, today there was no escape. I still had to be awake, have dinner, do my homework, and the next day I would be spending the entire day with Lydia and Allison at the mall. Nothing was worse for failing self-confidence than shopping with Lydia Martin. But Lydia and Allison were my best friends, and I wasn't going to cancel on them because I was feeling a little down.

So I pushed on, trying to get as much as I could done without thinking about Stiles, or Lydia, or myself. It didn't really work as well as I would have liked. I spent long periods of time just staring at my textbooks, mind drifting off to think about what I could do to be more like Lydia. Then I'd snap back to reality, get a few problems done and get distracted once more, my concentration ruined by the image of Stiles staring longingly at Lydia which had burned itself on the inside of my eyelids. It took me hours and hours to complete my homework, which at least gave me an excuse to eat dinner in my room, since I wasn't done just yet. Finally, I took an excruciatingly long shower, trying to drown my insecurities. Unfortunately, that didn't work either. Instead, I wound up glaring down at my body, wishing I were more petite, that I looked like Lydia. I hated it.

Eventually I was so fed up with myself that I climbed out of the shower, threw on a soft T-shirt and baggy pair of sweatpants, and collapsed into bed. There was no way I was going to be happy awake. I just wanted to escape, turn my brain off for a while and stop thinking. But if I thought that being unconscious would get me some peace, I wound up being sorely mistaken...

_I was standing in the waiting room of the hospital again. This time, the place seemed almost perfectly normal. Almost. There were nurses and doctors rushing here and there. A few worried family members sat in a group of chairs nearby. If I glanced behind me, I could see the sun shining through the glass of the windows, casting a warm square of light onto the floor. I looked around, trying to put my finger on what about the scene was causing me to feel on edge. _

_One of the children from the worried family slid down from his chair, clenching a dollar in his small fist and dashing off towards the vending machines. Before he could get there, he tripped on his loose shoelace, sending his blonde head careening to the floor._

_"Oh my God!" I gasped, and jumped at the sound of my own voice. It'd shattered the silence, echoing eerily for a split second before fading away. I turned wildly back and forth, finally realizing what was so odd. The hospital was completely silent. But not quiet, like it had been when I visited the hospital with Derek, but completely, dead silence. Even with all the people darting around, nurses conversing behind the desk, doctors talking to the families of patients, not a single sound was being made. My stomach turned. That couldn't be right. _

_The only plan of action I could think of was to find Mrs. McCall. It was daytime, and I knew she usually worked nights, but I figured there was a better chance of me finding her than anyone else. I turned to a nurse who was approaching me._

_"Excuse me, do you know…?" But the woman blew right past me, not even acknowledging my existence. I frowned, ready to follow her. "Excuse me!" I repeated, but my legs seemed to be frozen. I looked down, searching for some reason that my feet were glued to the ground, but there was none. I glanced back and forth, waving my arms, but no one noticed. It was as if I wasn't even there._

_I turned forward once more, sighing in frustration, and then let out a short squeal of fright. There was a woman standing directly in front of me, not three feet away. She had smooth, tan skin and a beautiful face. Her dark hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, the long, straight hair falling down her back. Unlike everyone else in the room, she could clearly see me. Dark brown eyes stared at me with concern. No…fear…_

_"Sadie." She spoke urgently, her voice even and strong, as if she were used to giving commands. "You have to get out of here. Now."_

_"W-What?" I asked. My eyes darted over her face, trying to figure out where I'd seen her before. Why was she here? Why could she also speak?_

_"You need to run," she instructed, but I shook my head._

_"I-I can't!" I informed her, coming to a realization as I let my panic wash over me. "Mrs. Hale I can't move my legs!"_

_"Yes, you can," she encouraged. "Sadie, you have to leave. Now." She reached out a hand to place it on my shoulder, but before she could, her entire body went rigid. Her eyes widened and fell closed, blood seeping from her mouth as her body crumpled to the floor in front of me. I screamed._

_"Calm down, it's only me," another voice said. My head jerked up, watery eyes landing on Peter Hale, still dressed in his black overcoat and cleaning the blood off his claws. I screeched again, wishing with all my might that I could scramble away, but my feet were still weighed to the ground. Peter rolled his eyes. "Yes. I understand that I've frightened you. Can we move on?" When Peter made no move to attack me, I managed to stop screaming. I tried again to run, to shift myself into a ready stance in case he lunged at me, but my legs were completely immobile. I looked around hurriedly, noticing that the room was suddenly completely empty. Peter smiled in his sweet, off-putting way. "Now, have you considered my offer?"_

_"Wha-? Offer?" I repeated, hands clenched into fists at my sides. Peter nodded innocently._

_"Do you want the bite?" I blanched, jaw dropping slightly open in shock. When had Peter ever offered me the bite? _Why_ would Peter ever offer me the bite? However, these questions seemed unimportant to the Alpha, as he went on, "Surely you see how I've improved Scott's life."_

_"Improved?" I repeated incredulously, my nails digging into my palms. "He's a werewolf! He has to try and stop you from killing people! You're trying to make him kill his friends, and his girlfriend can't even look at him because she doesn't trust him!"_

_"I'm the reason Scott has Allison in the first place," Peter informed me with a slight smile. "The bite made him faster, stronger, confident and good enough to catch her eye. Besides, the only reason Allison isn't with Scott is because she doesn't know what he is. That's not a problem you're going to have."_

_"It's not?" I asked warily. Peter grinned, shaking his head. "Why?"_

_"Stiles," he replied simply, making my blood run cold. "He knows all about us, so there's no reason to hide it from him."_

_"I don't…I don't know what…" I stammered, shaking my head. Peter rolled his eyes good-naturedly. _

_"Come now, Sadie. You know it's useless lying to me. I can hear your heartbeat." I snapped my mouth shut, extremely uncomfortable under Peter's earnest, amused smile. "Stiles has stayed by Scott, and you know he'll stand by you too. As a wolf you'll be naturally better. You can protect your friends and family. You'll be stronger, more agile, more beautiful." Peter lifted his right hand, tracing a finger down the side of my face, claw extended so it grazed gently over my skin. When he reached the bottom his fingers curled under my chin, tilting my head up as his piercing blue eyes continued to roam over my face. "Maybe even beautiful enough to compete with Lydia."_

_"Lyd…?" I repeated, almost in a daze. Peter beamed, taking a step back with a nod. _

_"The bite will make everything better, Sadie," said another voice. I looked quickly to my left to see Scott standing there, smiling sweetly with his familiar, puppy dog eyes. "I can't get you guys together myself. But I can tell you to do this… It's the only way to make Stiles want you more than Lydia."_

_"It's true." I turned to my right, where Derek was standing with his hands in his pockets. "You can be strong, Sadie. Perfect. All you have to do is join the pack." I gaped at the three of them, their argument weighing down on my shoulders, making me feel like my legs would buckle, like I would collapse from the pressure. I turned from person to person, Peter to Derek, Derek to Scott, Scott to Peter, all of them smiling encouragingly at me. Then Peter's blue eyes flashed red. The smile turned sinister, and suddenly I was being thrown back. I slammed into the wall, Scott and Derek's claws sinking into my flesh as they held my arms still, fangs bared. I shrieked again, watching in terror as Peter morphed into the hulking Alpha, red eyes glowing menacingly and watching me. Then he sprung._

_My scream rose higher, rising an octave as his claws tore at my skin, pointy teeth clamping into my side. My vision blurred, tears falling down my face as I was overcome with pain. I sucked in another breath, screaming again and again. But this time it wasn't a scream, but a roar. The world seemed to shake and tilt on its axis. The lights went out, but I could still see perfectly. Suddenly I was free and running, my hair flying behind me as I sprinted down a lone hallway. I glanced behind me, but the waiting room seemed to have completely disappeared, leaving only solid blackness and silence. I turned front once more, running toward the opposite end. _

_There was a small pinprick of color, a dark red-brown that I knew instinctively was a door. I ran and I ran, but it didn't seem to be getting any closer. A new sound pricked my ears, a steady tha-thump repeating over and over. I knew the origin was behind the door, though the sound seemed to swim all around me, loud and everywhere, as if someone were banging a drum right next to my ear. Suddenly the world seemed to spring into motion once more. The door grew faster than was possible, and the next second I was bursting through into the next room, sound still pounding in my ears. I stopped short._

_The room at the other end of the hall was Stiles's bedroom. The lights were off, but I could still see every detail perfectly clear. The rustled, empty sheets. The book laying open and upside down on the desk, ruining the spine with each passing second. A dirty pair of socks lying on the floor next to the bed. A picture of Stiles and Scott on the corkboard on the far wall. Then there was a breath against my ear._

_"Gotcha." I jumped as a pair of arms wrapped around my waist, tugging me up against the body they belonged to. I panicked, looking down at my stomach to see familiar hands and forearms clasped over my unblemished torso. My wounds were completely gone, leaving not a single tear in my shirt. The smell of cologne and curly fries washed over me, making me relax as I turned to look over my shoulder at the newcomer._

_"Stiles, what…?" But he cut me off, pulling me around to face him before sliding his hands up to my neck and silencing me with his lips. I froze, eyes wide open and helpless as his long fingers played with the hair on the back of my neck. My eyes fluttered shut, but as my senses came back to me, so did the pounding in my ears. My hands flew between us, pushing him away by his chest. He immediately stopped the advance, watching me with curious concern. "S-Stiles, what the hell are you doing?!"_

_"I was kissing you," he explained with a smirk, still looking dubious. "Is that okay?"_

_"Okay?" I repeated, as if it were another language. My eyes darted all over his face, scanning his moles to make sure it was him, inspecting his eyes for any hint of a joke. But there wasn't. Stiles's warm maple eyes blinked at me in the dark, his long lashes brushing his cheeks. I let my eyes sink, staring at the pink lips that had just been pressed against mine, and still weren't too far away. My tongue darted out, gliding over my own lips as I looked up to Stiles's eyes once more. His smirk grew and he cautiously pulled me flush against his chest, his arms tightening behind my back. Automatically, my arms reached up to wrap around his neck. Taking that as a sign of consent, Stiles ducked his head once more._

_This time, I barely hesitated to respond. My head tilted to the right to counter him, my eyes falling shut so I could focus on the feeling of his lips against mine. It was exactly as I'd imagined, tender and slow and deep and perfect in every way possible. I inhaled his scent through my nose, and my arms pulled his neck closer of their own accord, desperate to deepen the kiss. Stiles's hands moved on my back, sliding lower until he reached the bottom of my T-shirt. I gasped as his fingers slid underneath, barely lifting my shirt as they teased the skin of my lower back. He immediately took advantage of my surprise, smirking momentarily against my lips before his tongue slid into my mouth. I let out a small noise of delight, making Stiles's chest rumble with silent laughter as his tongue explored my mouth. But his chuckles had awakened some sort of determination in me, as if they were a direct challenge. _

_I pushed Stiles back, breaking the kiss and making him raise his eyebrows, smirk still firmly in place. Before I lost my nerve, I grabbed the bottom of his T-shirt, pulling it up just enough to slide my hands underneath. Stiles's smirk tightened, as did the lean muscles of his abdomen under my fingers. I slid my hands up, fingers splayed wide to touch as much skin as I possibly could. Stiles took a deep breath, and I could feel his chest heaving under my hands, his heart pounding away. I could still hear his heart beating, its rate increasing as my fingers grazed over it, and then I was the one smirking. Stiles glared playfully, reaching back so he could pull the shirt over his head. And then he was standing there in front of me, bare chest looking ghostly pale in the dark as he tossed his shirt to the side. My breath caught in my throat for a moment, eyes panning over the skin before I dragged them back up to his face. _

_We were both still for a moment before we jumped at each other simultaneously. One of my hands flew to his head, fingers digging into his scalp and dragging him into another kiss while my other hand explored the newly exposed skin of his shoulder blade. Stiles grabbed at my shirt, hiking the fabric up and tugging it over my head as quickly as possible without hurting either of us. Then his hands returned to my back, leaving trails of fire as they traveled over the skin to my bra strap. He slid his thumb underneath the clasp, making my shiver as he dragged it across my spine._

_And then suddenly everything stopped. It was as if Stiles had disappeared all together. I suddenly felt cold, still standing in my bra without Stiles's hands on my skin. Even the sound of his heartbeat had disappeared. My eyes snapped open, my head twisting back and forth to observe the empty room. Then, the sound of laughter broke through the sudden, heavy silence._

_I whirled around, looking to the door where both Stiles and Lydia stood silhouetted against the hall light. Stiles had his shirt on once more, but Lydia was dressed identically to me, pale denim jeans clinging to her hips and the ends of her strawberry blonde hair just tickling the top of the black bra. She sneered at me, and just that one look from my best friend would have been painful enough. Then, she opened her mouth._

_"If he's really as great as you think he is, someone like you probably doesn't deserve him," she taunted. Stiles stepped up behind her, letting her curl an arm around his neck as she smirked at me. "But maybe I should give him a shot, huh?" She tilted her head back, pulling him into a ferocious kiss. It wasn't tender, nothing like I imagined kissing Stiles to be. It was violent, competitive, like she used to kiss Jackson. He grabbed at her hips, pulling her against him and I winced, shutting my eyes to try and block out the entire experience. "Did you really think that a little bite was going to make you better than me?" Lydia's voice taunted. I pried my eyes open, looking at the couple once more. Lydia and Stiles were both watching me with hollow, emotionless eyes. Then Lydia snarled. "Even if you get bitten, nothing's gonna change! Nobody's gonna like you any more than they do now!" she screamed. I stumbled back a few steps, shocked to hear my own voice screeching at me through Lydia's lips. Before I could recover, Stiles was glaring at me._

_"You're nothing compared to Lydia!" Scott's voice proclaimed as Stiles moved his lips. "Nothing!" I retreated back even further, tripping over my feet and sending myself careening to the ground. Lydia laughed shrilly, and when I looked up she was leaning down over my body, Stiles nowhere in sight._

_"Oh God, I'm sorry, sweetie," she laughed. "It's just really cute when you try and do better than me. Everyone likes me better, and that's just the way it is. Tough luck, Sadie." She grabbed my wrist, the grip feeling harsher and more real than anything else had during the entire dream. "Sadie!" she repeated, still laughing. "Sadie! Sadie! Sadie!"_

"Sadie!"

I shot up in bed, panting and tears leaking from my eyes. I was in my room, the sun creeping in through my curtains on the windows. Lydia had torn the hangings on my bed to the side and was gripping my left wrist tightly, staring down at me with a terrified kind of concern.

"Oh my God, are you okay?" she gushed, scooting farther onto the bed. I pushed myself closer to the wall, her cruel laughter still ringing in my ears. Lydia immediately retracted her hand, her worry becoming briefly tinged with hurt. "Sadie, are you…? Are you crying?"

"What?" My hand flew up to my face, wiping away the tears that had spilled onto my cheeks. "No. I-I'm fine."

"Sadie, were you having a nightmare or…?" Lydia started softly.

"I said I'm fine!" I snapped. Lydia recoiled again, making me close my eyes and sigh. "I'm fine," I repeated softly, though the heavy feeling in my chest begged to differ. Lydia nodded.

"I just wanted to make sure you were up," she informed me, looking down at her hands in her lap. "Allison's should be here to pick us up in about an hour. You're still coming to the mall?" The half question dragged my brain fully into reality. It was Saturday. I was supposed to be accompanying Lydia and Allison to the mall to look at dresses we may or may not wear to the winter formal. I often hated shopping with Lydia because she always looked good in everything, and to top it all off, I'd just had a dream about her making out with my formal date, who liked her more than he liked me. What a fantastic start to the day.

"Yeah," I assured her. "I'm good. Still coming."

"Good," she chirped, looking up quickly and plastering a smile on her face. "It wasn't a question. Now get up and get dressed because we are headed out shopping to get _dressed_!" She sent me an air kiss before hopping off my bed, ripping the covers back and strutting back out of the room.

I collapsed back onto my pillow, letting out a deep sigh as I ran a hand through my hair. Everything had just felt so terrifyingly real. Me being attacked by Peter, me falling and Lydia gripping my wrist, me kissing Stiles… I shuddered. No. I wasn't going to think about it. I considered, for a moment, the dream Scott had had earlier in the year about attacking Allison, and how it had actually happened in a way he wasn't expecting. But judging by the fact that I couldn't hear Lydia's heartbeat two rooms down, I figured it was safe to bet that I hadn't been turned into a werewolf. As for the rest of the dream, well… That was far fetched enough for me to realize it wasn't reality.

After several minutes recollecting my thoughts, I finally dragged myself out of bed and towards my closet. I needed something simple, something that I could easily slip on and off, and on and off, and on and off as Lydia dragged us from store to store and dressing room to dressing room. Advice Lydia had drilled into me echoed in my head, and I wound up picking out a thick, cream-colored sweater dress that I paired with stockings and a pair of knee high brown boots. I added a thick brown belt for the hell of it, but that was all the effort I could muster into my appearance. Then I put on my makeup and trudged downstairs to wait for Allison.

When her car finally pulled into the driveway, Lydia dashed out like a general marching into battle. Allison quickly jumped out of the driver's seat, dashing up the stairs to meet me at the front door.

"Hey, so I brought you another cartridge," she greeted, pulling the electrified package out of her bag.

"Oh," I breathed, accepting the refill for my taser and stashing it in my own purse. "Yeah, thanks."

"What'd you use the first one on anyway?" she giggled. Peter's face flashed in my mind and a phantom pain twinged in my side.

"Oh, uh I just brought it on a run with me," I offered casually. "I thought there was something in the bushes, but it turns out I'm just paranoid."

"Well, better safe than sorry," she grinned.

"Yeah," I muttered, fingers fiddling with my purse strap and my head hung low.

"Hey," she started, making me look up. "Are you okay?" She was watching me with concern, and it was at that moment that I realized Allison was my only friend who hadn't turned up to taunt me in my dream. So when she reached out to put a hand on my shoulder, I didn't flinch or pull away.

"Yeah," I replied softly. "I uh…I had a rough night, but I'm fine."

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked gently, but I simply shook my head, putting on a small smile. Allison nodded in understanding, letting her hand fall back to her side. "Okay, well, I'm here if you need to."

"Thanks, Allison," I replied earnestly, and she nodded with an encouraging grin once more. Suddenly, the sound of the car horn ripped through the air. I sighed, turning back to Allison's car once more, where Lydia was waiting impatiently in the passenger seat. She glared at us through the car window, slamming her hand on the horn again in an effort to get us moving. "Well, let's get this over with." Allison giggled at my obvious reluctance, linking her arm through mine and pulling me to the car.

"Finally!" Lydia exclaimed as we climbed into the vehicle. "We've got work to do! Let's move it!"

"Oh, actually," Allison piped, putting on her seatbelt. "I've just got one stop I've got to make."

"Seriously?" Lydia groaned, but the tone of Allison's voice made me look up. There was a casual sort of determination in her voice, bordering on bitterness. I glanced at her face in the rearview mirror, watching as her sweet brown eyes narrowed at the road.

"It'll be quick," she assured her, before stepping on the gas. The car lurched forward slightly, making both Lydia and I jump in alarm. We shared a quick look of surprise before leaning back quietly in our seats. Obviously, I wasn't the only brunette in the car with something bothering her.

We drove in silence for a long time before Allison pulled into a small, dirt parking lot. Lydia and I shared another look of confusion before scrambling out of the car after her. Allison was rummaging around the trunk, finally pulling out a large black bag and swinging it over her shoulder. The ends of her bow stuck out in the corners, making me raise my eyebrows.

"We're going shooting?" I asked, pointing feebly to her bag. Allison grinned innocently, but her face was tight.

"I just want to check something. Come on." Without waiting for us to follow, she slammed the trunk of her car shut and headed for the woods. Lydia turned to me with wide eyes.

"Shooting?!" she repeated frantically. "Why are we shooting? What are we shooting? Why does anyone here know how to shoot?!" I gaped after Allison in confusion.

"Uh, well Allison used to do archery. But why are we shooting now? Beats me." Lydia huffed, pulling a pair of white gloves out of the pockets of her coat. I shivered, wrapping my own arms around my torso. "Come on. Guess we should keep up."

"I am not dressed for a hike in the woods," Lydia grumbled, carefully following in my steps. Her heels were considerably higher and thinner than mine, meaning she was more likely to sink through the leaves where she stood. I sighed.

"Well I'm not letting her wander around alone. Not with what's out there." I could feel Lydia's confused and frightened eyes on my back, but I simply trudged ahead in pursuit of Allison. A few seconds later, the violent rustle of leaves behind me assured me that Lydia was stomping after me.

We walked for a considerably long time, each step making me wish I'd worn better shoes and a thicker coat. A sweater was good for the mall, but not so much for extensive hiking. Lydia seemed to be thinking along the same lines as she rambled about the weather and impractical clothing choices, but neither Allison nor I responded. Allison was striding ahead, leading us deeper into the forest without a single clue as to what she was looking for. I pulled my hands farther up into the sleeves of my sweater, hoping to fend off the chill.

"Allison," Lydia whined several minutes later, half panting from the effort of keeping up with our longer strides. "When you said you needed to stop for an errand before we went shopping, five mile hike in the woods? Not what I was expecting."

"It hasn't been five miles," I refuted, glancing nervously between the trees all around us.

"Well that's what if feels like in these shoes!" Lydia complained, stamping her foot into a pile of leaves and tripping herself. I grabbed her arm, pulling her along and keeping her upright. But Allison ignored our comments.

"Before I forget, I wanted to ask if you were okay with something," she asked abruptly. Lydia cocked an eyebrow, but Allison wasn't waiting for a response. "Jackson asked me to the winter formal." Lydia and I both faltered midstride, identical in the way our eyes widened and breath caught in our throats. Lydia was obviously panicking because every one of her fears was coming true. It looked like Jackson had dumped her because he was more interested in Allison. I was more surprised and enraged, knowing that Jackson was using Allison in a twisted attempt to control Scott.

"Did he?" Lydia barely managed to squeak out.

"Yeah," Allison replied cavalierly. "Just as friends, but I just wanted to make sure you were okay with it first." There was a mocking tone to her voice that put me on edge, but Lydia hadn't seemed to notice.

"Sure," she replied shrilly. "As long as it's just friends."

"Well, yeah, I mean," Allison paused to chuckle in annoyance. "It's not like I would take him into the coach's office during lacrosse practice to make out with him or anything." She sent a short glare over her shoulder at us as Lydia and I stopped dead. Lydia turned to me with wide incredulous eyes, and I shook my head violently. I certainly hadn't told Allison about Scott's actions during the full moon. Best guess it'd been something Jackson had told her, though whether it was because he knew it was true or he was using it to get closer to her, I wasn't sure.

"About that…" Lydia began nervously, before rushing to catch up with our friend. "Allison, you have to know I didn't-!"

"What?" Allison snapped, stopping short and whirling around angrily. "Didn't think I was gonna find out?"

"No!" Lydia objected, cowering slightly. "I just—I wasn't thinking and I didn't want to upset you."

"Oh," Allison sneered. "So you hooked up with Scott and then decided to make it up to me by not telling me."

"Well when you put it like that…" Lydia mumbled, clasping her gloved hands in front of her. "Allison, I am really sorry." Allison groaned, closing her eyes and tightening her hand on her bag strap.

"Lydia, 'sorry' isn't good enough!" she cried. "Just because I'm not exactly dating him right now doesn't mean it doesn't hurt when you do something like that!"

"I know," Lydia replied immediately. "I wasn't thinking. Scott wasn't thinking. And I only realized just how terrible I was being when Sadie started yelling at me, and I'm sorry." Allison's glared flicked over to me, and I bit my lip.

"You knew about this too?" she demanded. Lydia glanced over apologetically and I sighed. I momentarily considered lying, but I figured we'd lied to Allison enough. And Lydia had already thrown me under the bus.

"Yeah," I confessed quietly, crossing my arms over my chest and nodding.

"And you weren't gonna tell me?!" she yelled. I closed my eyes for a moment, letting out a deep breath.

"I was pretty harsh on Lydia when I found out," I informed her. Lydia nodded furiously. "But she told me over and over that it was just a mistake and she wasn't thinking and she was sorry. I guess I believe it was a one-time thing. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to lose a friend and your boyfriend in the same week. I'm sorry." Allison sighed, her glare softening slightly though she still looked damaged and hurt.

"Allison, " Lydia said quietly, taking a tentative step forward. "I'm really sorry, and I promise I'll make it up to you. Okay?" Allison simply stood there for a moment, glancing between the two of us and then spending a few seconds not looking at us at all. Finally, she nodded slightly, and Lydia and I relaxed.

"So," I started tentatively. "Did you bring us into the woods to shoot us to death?" I waved a hand vaguely at her luggage, and Allison smiled grudgingly.

"No, of course not," she assured us. "I just want to try something. Come on." We followed her just a little further until she found a spot she deemed acceptable. She dropped her bag to the forest floor, unzipping it quickly and tugging on one of her brown, leather shooting gloves.

"You really think this is a good time for target practice?" I asked, looking around the forest. We still had no clue where Derek and Peter were, and I wasn't completely positive they wouldn't attack us just because it was light out.

"I found something in my garage last night," she informed me, pulling out a small, metal device from her bag and holding it up for me to see. It was a dark and dusty silver, ridges layering up to a point at the top with a screw sticking out of the bottom. "My dad left it on one of the tables while I was in my car." Without any further explanation, she pulled an arrow shaft from the bag, holding it upright so she could screw the lethal looking tip to the end.

"What does that do?" Lydia asked in a weak voice, folding her arms over her chest. Allison grinned at the completed arrow.

"We're about to find out." She grabbed her bow, standing up and taking aim at the unsuspecting tree she'd chosen as her target. All three of us seemed to stop breathing in anticipation. After a few seconds, Allison released the string.

There was a shower of white sparks as the arrow met its mark head on. I instantly recognized them as the same kind of sparks that had been hounding Derek when we saved him in the iron works. Nevertheless, we all jumped slightly from surprise, if not complete shock. Lydia stared open mouthed at the arrow, firmly embedded in the bark and its tail flaming slightly. Allison lowered her arm slowly, staring at the tree not in horror, but fascination.

I watched her warily. If Allison was discovering her family's hunting gear, it probably wasn't an accident. She was learning more about the family business, and that meant learning about werewolves. Soon enough, she was going to be forced to choose between her family and Scott. I wished that it didn't have to happen. I was sure that Allison would be able to accept Scott for what he truly was if her family never got in the way. Part of me still felt that even when she did find out, things would still be okay.

"What the hell was that?" Lydia asked in awe, clenching at her own arms. Allison shook her head slightly.

"I don't know," she replied. I glanced between the two of them.

"Well, as the daughter of a police officer," I offered. "I can tell you with a hundred percent certainty that those are not standard issue." Allison nodded, looking down at her bow. Lydia huffed.

"Well, that was fun," she said sarcastically, wandering forward a few steps. "Any more lethal weapons you wanna try out?" Before Allison could respond to the jab, there was a rustle of leaves somewhere nearby. We all froze, eyes darting back and forth in search of the origin. I padded closer to my friends, hand automatically reaching for the zipper of my purse and the taser inside.

"Hold this," Allison whispered, pushing the bow into Lydia's hands. The shorter girl's eyes widened, staring down at the foreign object and then back to Allison.

"What? Why?"

"Because I thought I heard something," Allison replied pulling the glove off her hand.

"So what if you heard something?" Lydia questioned nervously.

"So I wanna find out what that something is," Allison answered, dropping her shooting glove into her bag to punctuate the statement.

"Allison, I really don't think you should go out there by yourself," I advised, eyes glancing through the trees, half expected a pair of glowing red eyes to be watching us. "Especially unarmed."

"I'm not," she said casually. "Don't worry, I've got the taser. It's probably nothing." Lydia panicked as she began to walk away.

"But what if that nothing is something and that something is something dangerous?" she asked quickly. Allison paused with her back to us.

"Shoot it," she ordered irritably, then strode away into the trees. Lydia let out a pitiful whimper, and after a last precautionary glance around, I turned to her.

"Okay, why don't you give that to me," I suggested, easing the bow out of her hands. She nodded fervently, easily giving up the weapon. There was another rustle of leaves, and while I was fairly certain it was Allison, I reached down to pull out another arrow from the bag, notching it into the bow just in case.

"Do you know how to use that?" Lydia asked in a horrified voice. I cocked my head to the side slightly.

"Kind of," I informed her, keeping my eyes panning the tree line. "Allison would have been out best shot. I'm better with the taser."

"Taser?" Lydia repeated shrilly. "Since when do you have a taser?!"

"Kate got them for me and Allison," I replied. "Just some precautionary protection because of the attacks."

"I think I should have protection too," Lydia suggested nervously. I grinned at her over my shoulder.

"Why do you think I've got the bow?"

We stood there for a few minutes of tense silence, back to back in the middle of the clearing. I kept the arrow notched, pointed down at the ground but ready to pull back and shoot with a second's notice. Lydia kept her eyes out behind me, rustling leaves as she nervously shifted her weight back and forth between her feet. Finally, Allison's voice called out to us from the forest.

"Sadie? Lydia?"

"Yes?!" Lydia yelped.

"It's just me, so don't shoot." Allison wandered back into the clearing, smile on her face and looking much more relaxed and amiable than she had when she left. She giggled when she noticed our defensive stance. "Wow, you guys don't mess around," she joked. Lydia laughed in nervous relief as I removed the tension from the string, dropping the arrow back into the bag.

"When you run off with a killer on the loose? Of course not," I replied, handing the bow back to her. She grinned.

"S-So what was the something?" Lydia inquired, eyeing the harmless taser in Allison's hand. I noticed the cartridge had been removed, which meant she had to have shot at something. I raised an eyebrow.

"Scott," she sighed with a smile. "He tracked me down because he found my necklace." Her hand reached up to her neck, fingering the silver wolf pendent that was hanging around her collar once more.

"Oh, well hey!" I cheered happily, as if I hadn't known Scott had the necklace the entire time. "See? I told you it'd turn up when you least expected it."

"Yeah, tell me about it," she agreed, looking around at the trees once more.

"Well," Lydia scoffed. "I hope he doesn't think that makes up for lying to you about everything that's been going on with him. Most importantly nearly getting us killed." Allison smirked at Lydia's abrupt attitude. We all knew that her sudden harshness towards Scott was her way of trying to show that she was on Allison's side.

"No, of course not," Allison agreed, but she ducked her head, clearly wishing that finding her necklace _could _make up for everything it seemed Scott had done.

"He's probably the reason it disappeared in the first place," Lydia shot. I glared at her, but she simply waved me off with a hand. "Now can we go to the mall now? Please? I need some serious retail therapy after this whole debacle."

"Yeah," Allison agreed with a sigh, picking up her bag from the ground. "Let's get outta here."

* * *

**A/N: I'm sorry, but you're welcome. That's really all I can think to say about this chapter. I hope I wrote enough to offset the emotional pain you guys have to read.**

**Thank you and welcome to all the new readers, favoriters, followers, and reviewers. I continue to adore hearing from you. My gratitude to ScornedxRose, GetsueiNoYume, becca1130, A Cool Guest, ellisbellisballs, Britt, DarthVadress, OliviaMisfit, LifeToDeath, TameTheGhosts, Outsidel0okingin, xALFiex, Lucy Greenhill, This is a Creative Name, Isaac fan, xXbriannaXx, Lil Miss Sunshine14 (even though I think yours might have gotten cut off? I'm not sure), GuardianAngels45, prettyargents, SammieLuvsFood, Kelly1432, LynZann, FridaMarsmellow, Guest, kaljara, DestinyOrton, Miss E Charlotte (even though you haven't reached this chapter yet), and LionHeartMisfit! Such kick ass feedback!**

**For those of you who asked, I will be continuing into season 2, but under a separate title. I'm not sure what it's going to be yet, but I'll be sure to let you know at the end of this story.**

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**And that's about it! I am super, super, super excited to hear what you guys have to say about this chapter. So let me know! Thank you!**

**-Brittney**


	27. Chapter 27

The atmosphere in the car on the way to the mall was much more cheerful than it had been on our way to the woods. Allison put on the radio so we could all sing and chat about what we were looking for in dresses. Or rather, Lydia talked about what she would be looking for in dresses for each of us, and Allison and I patiently listened. One thing was different about that trip than our first girls' night, and that was that Lydia was suddenly single too. That was a major improvement, because suddenly all three of us were avoiding the topic of boys. We were free to just talk about dresses and music, movies and gossip, all without trying to keep one another in check. It was liberating.

At least, it was until we actually started trying formal clothes on. As I had predicted, Lydia looked gorgeous in ever dress she tried on. I continually flashed back to my dream, her words about everyone loving her more echoing over and over in my head. I was thankful to have Allison with me, at least. Being with Allison didn't bring up any bad memories from my subconscious, and she seemed just as annoyed by Lydia's beauty as I was. We were both slightly more hesitant in trying on dresses, slightly more reluctant to try something skimpy or odd. Lydia was able to pull off anything, but Allison and I both seemed to have a hard time finding something we liked.

Four hours later, Allison and I were both exhausted. Lydia, however, was still a bouncing ball of energy. She used the four green dresses I had picked out for her to usher us away, conceding to meet us at the food court after she had tried on just a few more. Allison and I practically ran out of the store, making our escape before she could change her mind and make us stay to give her our opinions. Food purchased and in hand, we finally found a small, round table tucked away in the corner of the food court to eat in peace.

"Hey, I wanted to talk to you about something," Allison informed me nervously. I raised my eyebrows as I stuffed two or three fries in my mouth.

"What about?" I asked, slightly muffled. Allison smiled at my antics, but quickly sobered up as she turned back to the topic at hand.

"It's…it's about my family." That caught my attention. I quickly pushed the sides aside, taking one last sip of my soda before I turned to give her my full attention. Allison smiled gratefully. "It's just…I know it sounds really weird. Everything about it is really weird. But… I trust your opinion and I wanted to know what you'd think."

"Okay," I replied, nodding. "What's up?" Allison hesitated a moment longer, chewing on her bottom lip.

"It's probably nothing, so you don't have to point out that I'm being paranoid or something. I know that I'm probably wrong and I'm just being stupid…"

"Hey," I cut her off, leaning forward slightly in earnest. "Don't say that you're being stupid. There are a lot of weird things going on around here, and I'd say it's better to be paranoid than to passively let everything slide. Better safe than sorry, right?" I echoed her words from earlier, making her smile slightly. She nodded before taking a deep breath.

"It's just…okay, you know how I told you I thought my dad knew something about Derek?" I nodded, watching her curiously. "And I know you said you agreed it wasn't him who was killing people, and that my dad could have just known because he overheard something at the sheriff's station."

"I mean, it makes sense to me," I reiterated. "If he supplies the weapons there it's possible that he's heard some things while he's down there."

"Yeah," Allison agreed. "That's what I thought too. But then why lie to me about it?"

"Probably the same reason Scott was lying," I offered. "The more you know the more likely you are to get involved, be in danger." Allison shook her head.

"Okay, then why does my family have exploding arrow heads?" she pressed. "You said yourself that is not something local law enforcement is using."

"I honestly don't know," I shrugged. "Your dad doesn't have like a closest fetish for explosives does he?" Allison sighed, her head continuing to shake back and forth as she glared down at her meal. She took a few deep breaths, like she was trying to convince herself to go on.

"But here's the thing," she continued, in a voice so low I had to slide my chair farther in and lean closer so I could her. "I was in the garage the other night looking for my necklace. I thought I might have left it in my car or something, and obviously it wasn't, but… While I was in there, like in the middle of the night, my dad and Kate came home."

"Where were they?" I asked, trying to hide my nervousness, but she simply shook her head and shrugged.

"I don't know. It was like 4 o'clock in the morning. And then they starting talking about being inconspicuous and my dad's favorite weapon being a crossbow, and—and how they could be teaching me if they wanted but Dad just kept saying 'not yet' and…" Allison glanced up at me despairingly. "I just don't know what the hell my family's been keeping from me." I watched her steadily. I really wished I had Allison to talk to about all of this. About the werewolves and the hunters and Derek and Peter. I didn't want to lie to her. But maybe…maybe I could just tell her half-truths…

"Well," I mused quietly, trying to choose my words carefully. "Maybe…it's something like…hunting…"

"Hunting?" she repeated skeptically.

"Yeah," I nodded. "I mean…trying to be inconspicuous so you don't spook your prey, using a crossbow instead of a gun…you not being ready to learn because you're blinded by their innocence…" I flinched at my own phrasing, but Allison seemed to be considering the idea.

"But what does that have to do with Derek?" she asked. I shrugged.

"Unless your dad just walked out of _The Most Dangerous Game_, nothing," I replied. Allison deflated. "I know you don't want to hear it but, maybe they aren't related. Maybe your dad's just hiding more than one thing from you."

"I'm sure he is," she grumbled, and I sighed. "But I don't understand what the big deal is about hunting. Like, yeah I think it's terrible, but they were talking about it like it was some super top secret thing…" She trailed off, gazing down at her fries as if they held the answers to all her family problems. A few seconds later, she spoke up again. "He said…He said that the arrowheads had saved his life more than once…" she remembered, then slowly looked up at me once more. "What's my dad hunting that could kill him?" My stomach lurched. She was so close, but all I could do was look at her sadly.

"I don't know," I lied, shaking my head solemnly. Allison nodded, looking almost broken. I wished again that I could tell her the truth. But what would I say? _"Oh well your family's hunting your ex-boyfriend cause he's a werewolf, but right now they think the boy who's taking you to formal is a werewolf and he's working with a suspected murderer and ex-coma patient to kill people." _That'd go over real well, especially when I didn't have proof.

"Thanks for listening," she piped almost two whole minutes of silence later. "I know I sound ridiculous."

"You don't," I assured her. "You've got every right to want to know about your family." She nodded appreciatively, taking a sip of her drink and visibly trying to shake off her morose mood.

"Oh, there's something else I wanted your help with," she added, sitting up a little straighter. "I was trying to think of ideas for how Lydia could make up for the whole Scott thing. Just something small, like giving me a ride to and from school every day so I don't have to pay for gas, or like, checking all of my homework and helping me study for tests. But I didn't really like those, so I was wondering if you had any ideas."

I looked away, turning to watch Lydia through the glass walls of a storefront while Allison continued to throw around ideas. Lydia was looking at a pale pink dress now, black ribbon round the waist, and just pale enough not to clash with her hair. I knew that if I'd put on that dress, it'd make me look flushed and ruddy, but on Lydia it would look perfect. Everything looked perfect on Lydia, and everyone thought so. Suddenly I was thinking back to my nightmare again. Lydia looking a thousand times better than me in my own clothes. Lydia viciously making out with Stiles in a way I apparently couldn't even dream of doing myself. Lydia leaning over me and telling me to give up…

"You should pick her date to the formal."

Allison looked up at the abrupt suggestion, cut off half way through some idea about forcing Lydia to wear jeans for a week.

"But she's already going with that lacrosse guy, right?" she asked. "Besides, I wouldn't even know who to make her go with as punishment. I guess Greenberg would say yes if he doesn't have a date…"

"Stiles," I said, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. "You make her go with Stiles."

"Funny," Allison laughed, rolling her eyes and taking a sip of her drink. I stared depressingly down at the table, fingers playing with the ends of my sleeves. When she noticed I wasn't laughing, the smile slid right off her face in an instant. "Oh my God, you're not joking," she gasped. "No! Sadie, you're going with Stiles!"

"As friends," I reminded her quietly. Allison was shaking her head so rapidly it would have been comical in almost any other situation.

"No! I mean, that's what he said but that doesn't mean it's true! I mean, you like him! And you've already got a date with him! He said that he wanted to go with you, even when he was sober! I'm not letting you cancel that!"

"He said he wanted to go with me when Lydia was going with Jackson," I said softly. "But…ever since they broke up things have been different. He's just obsessing over the idea that he could be there for her. He doesn't want to be there with me."

"Well too bad!" she replied frantically. "Lydia's already got a date, and he's gonna have an awesome time with you and realize how much better for him you are. So he better suck it up, because there's nothing he can do about it."

"But I can," I replied firmly. Allison just continued to stare at me with wide eyes, her face a whirlwind of emotions—exasperation, anger, pity, sadness, and frustration mostly. I ignored l heavy feeling in my stomach, the one that made it feel like I was either going to be sick or just completely collapse in on myself. "You're right. I do like Stiles. And I want to see him have a nice time. If he goes with me, he's just going to spend the entire time staring at Lydia. He deserves to go with her. He deserves to get that chance."

"No," Allison replied firmly, and I was shocked to hear there was a tremble in her voice. "Sadie, no. Okay? You are so great. You are so great for him and this is such the perfect chance to prove it. I think it's really sweet and really stupid that you want to give him his chance with Lydia, but I'm not going to help you ruin this opportunity."

"Yeah," I replied, staring down at my half eaten burger. "Yeah, you are." Allison looked at me with wide eyes, seemingly terrified by my solid, calm voice. "You owe me, remember? For going on that date with you and Scott to the café." Allison jaw dropped.

"No!" she objected immediately in an extremely high voice.

"You said you would make it up to me. This is how," I replied tiredly.

"No!" she repeated. "No! I meant-! I meant like getting you and Stiles alone together, or covering for you if you snuck out! Not ruining your date with your crush!"

"You're not ruining anything, because it's not a date," I informed her firmly. "You're saving me from having to spend time with Stiles when all he can do is wish I was Lydia." Allison froze, her eyes squinting at me in sorrow and disbelief. "Now, Lydia has to make something up to you, and you have to make something up to me. I'm asking you to get her to go to the dance with Stiles."

"I…" Allison stammered, shaking her head in denial. "I-I don't get anything out of that. Lydia wouldn't be making anything up to me." I smiled sadly, chuckling in a way that sounded entirely too watery for my own liking.

"I'll get her to buy your dress," I offered. "Then we all get something out of it." Allison stared at me pleadingly.

"Please," she begged in a whisper. "Please don't make me do this, Sadie." But we both knew that my resolve was firm. And as much as she hated it, I knew Allison would do as I asked. I wasn't going to go to the formal with somebody who wished I were someone else. Going as friends I could handle. Going as a replacement…I couldn't.

"I think I found it!" Lydia cheered happily, dropping into the chair between Allison and I and completely oblivious to the entire depressing conversation she'd just interrupted. "Obviously we're not buying today, but I think I found the dress I'll be purchasing next week. It's perfect!"

"Is it that pink one you had? That was adorable," I gushed, plastering a fake smile on my face. Lydia wouldn't be allowed to find out about our plan until it was too late to back out. I didn't need her hounding me for a week trying to get me to change my mind.

Lydia beamed, prattling on about her top ten dresses for the day, and I put on a brave face to listen to her. Allison wasn't nearly as convincing. She still seemed shocked, frustrated and angry. Lydia had to ask her if she was alright at least a dozen times before we were dropped off out our house once more. She repeated that she was fine, but her voice was thin, and Lydia clearly wasn't buying it. When I hopped out of the car, Allison gave me a long, hard stare and a small nod. I smiled sadly but gratefully at her. She seemed more upset about me weaseling my way out of the arrangement with Stiles than I was. But it would be less painful this way. Stiles would get to live out his dream of going on a date with Lydia Martin, Lydia could go to the dance with a genuinely nice person who cared about her instead of some last minute setup, and I could find someone else to go with and try to have a nice time, all without the weight of worrying about Stiles not liking me as much as Lydia. It all made perfect sense.

_"Then why aren't I happier?"_ I thought to myself, climbing up the stairs to my room to work on my homework.

I pushed that question to the back of my mind. I didn't want to think about Lydia or Stiles, or just how strong my crush on him was. Instead, I did my best to bury my head in the sand. I changed into a comfy pair of pajamas. I played around on Facebook and a few other websites. I read one of my library books—finally one that wasn't about werewolves. Well, it wasn't strictly about werewolves anyway. I ate an early dinner with Lydia and our mothers, and then we all watched a movie together. A completely normal, stress free family night.

But of course, nothing in Beacon Hills could be normal and stress free for long.

I was curled up on my bed, replaying a few levels of my favorite computer game on my laptop, when my phone started vibrating next to me. I glanced down from the virtual battle I was fighting, easily catching Stiles's name flashing on the screen of my phone. I bit my lip and ignored it, turning all of my focus to the game once more. But then it rang again. Stiles. And again. Stiles. And again.

I glared down at the phone, considering picking it up just to tell him I was sick and didn't really want to talk, but then I realized it was Scott calling me. There was a good chance he was with Stiles anyway, but I decided if the matter was so important it warranted four phone calls, it was probably best that I just answer.

"Hello?"

_"You can't just not answer,"_ Scott said immediately. I rolled my eyes.

"I-I didn't not answer," I lied, pausing my computer game. "Couldn't find my phone." If Scott knew I was lying, he didn't let on. Instead, he pushed right ahead.

_"Look, Stiles and I are coming to pick you up."_

"What? Why?" I asked frantically, freezing where I sat and looking down at my baggy T-shirt and sweatpants.

_"My mom's on a date with Peter!"_ Scott explained, twice as frenzied as I was. My heart clenched.

"Excuse me?"

_"My mom!"_ he repeated in a rush. _"S-Some guy turned up to the hospital and asked her to dinner and then when he came to pick her up it was Peter and I don't know where they're going but he said he wants to bite her so I'll join the pack!"_

"Okay, okay," I replied, jumping out of bed and running towards my dresser. "Calm down, Scott. When are you gonna be here?"

_"L-Like two minutes."_

"Okay," I acknowledged, pinning the phone between my shoulder and my ear as I traded my sweatpants for a pair of jeans. "Take a deep breath. I'll be outside."

_"Yeah. Thanks,"_ Scott managed to breathe, before I hung up the phone abruptly and dropped it on top of my dresser. I fixed my jeans and then ripped off my T-shirt, exchanging it for a discarded blouse I had thrown aside that morning. I grabbed a cardigan and the first pair of boots I saw, threw them on, and then grabbed my purse and phone and sprinted for the door. I tried to move as quietly as possible, running down the edge of the stairs so they'd make less noise, and then easing the front door open and closed to get outside. By the time I'd reached the end of the driveway, the Jeep was just pulling up.

"Move," I ordered needlessly as Scott leapt out of the passenger seat and onto the asphalt. I launched myself into the car, barely pausing in the seat before I jumped smoothly into the back. Scott clambered back in behind me, and when the door was close, Stiles stepped on the gas. The Jeep had only been still for maybe five seconds.

"You okay?" Stiles asked, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. I waved him off, turning to Scott.

"Fine. What are we doing?"

"We—We have to stop him," the werewolf replied shakily. I laid a hand on his shoulder, feeling it tremble underneath my touch.

"Scott, I know," I said calmly. "Do we have a plan?"

"Not yet," Stiles replied, looking over at his friend with worry.

"Do we know where they are?" I asked. Scott gave a jerky nod.

"I can hear his car engine. Stiles, make a right." Stiles did as instructed, twisting the vehicle and making me slide in the back for a moment.

"So we're just gonna follow them?" he asked as he spun the steering wheel.

"No," Scott replied firmly. "We have to stop him."

"How?" I asked tensely. "I doubt three teenagers are gonna be much to an Alpha, even if one of us is a werewolf."

"And another has a Get Out Slaughter Free card," Stiles added. "Me? I got nothing. Got any ideas, dude?"

"A few," Scott responded, looking nervously out of the window. "None of them good."

"Well, good, that's encouraging," Stiles shot sarcastically, turning back to glare at the road.

"Maybe we should just wait until they stop," I suggested. "I mean, your mom's gonna fight back. He can't attack her while he's driving."

"But we don't know where they're going," Stiles pointed out. I rolled my eyes.

"That's why we're following them, dumbass," I snapped. "Besides, he's probably taking her to his house anyway."

"Oh, the half burned Hale mansion?" Stiles laughed. "Yeah, that's not gonna be a mood killer."

"He's not actually taking her on a date, Siltes," I corrected him, glaring. "It's not like he's gonna try to turn her in the middle of the parking lot of a five star restaurant."

"Guys," Scott's voice interrupted tensely. "I don't think that's gonna be a problem."

"What?" Stiles asked quickly, rapidly looking back and forth between his best friend and the road. "Why? What's happening?"

"I think they pulled over," he answered. "The car's still running, but I don't think they're moving."

"Shit," Stiles cursed under his breath, pressing harder on the gas.

"Okay," I sighed, doing my best to stay calm. "Scott, I'd say it's time for one of those not good plans then."

"Yeah, okay," he agreed, shifting nervously in his seat and pressing himself back. "Uh…hit them."

"What?!" Stiles screeched, tearing his eyes away from the road so violently that the car actually swerved a bit.

"Hit them!" Scott repeated shrilly. "Hit his car!"

"Dude!" Stiles exclaimed, running a nervous but loving hand over the steering wheel. "My Jeep!"

"Then don't hit them hard! Besides, your car's got the height advantage," Scott consoled shakily. "You'll be fine."

"Scott," I called anxiously, keeping my eyes ahead through the windshield, scanning the side of the road for any cars. "You know your mom's gonna think this is sabotage. You and your best friend crashing the Jeep into her date's car?"

"Uh, yeah, right. I-I can't be here," he replied, looking around frantically for a hiding spot.

"W-What do you mean you can't be here?" Stiles asked. "We don't exactly have time to drop you off!"

"I know!" Scott practically squeaked, before taking a deep breath. "Uh, so they're like, right up the road. Just…Just hit them, okay?"

"Yes, Scott," Stiles snapped. "I heard you the first time. Hit the Alpha's car. What are you…?" But before Stiles had finished his question, Scott's hand had shot to the door handle. Without warning, he flung the door open and threw himself out of the car with a yelp. "Oh my God!" Stiles exclaimed as I squealed. "Sadie! Door! Go!" I panicked for a moment before I realized what he was attempting to ask me to do. I scrambled into the passenger seat, Stiles holding my arm tightly as I reached out to wrench the door shut. Once it was firmly closed once more, we sat panting for a moment. Attempting to focus on the task at hand, I pulled my arm back so I could fumble with my seatbelt, preparing for the impending crash. "God!" Stiles yelped. "Was—Did he _really_ think that was necessary?!"

"Apparently," I sighed wearily, pushing myself back into the seat. Hardly a second passed before I glimpsed the red taillights on the side of the road before us. "Found them," I pointed out, raising finger to windshield. Stiles nodded, taking in a deep breath that made his cheeks puff out slightly.

"O-kay," he muttered, keeping his eyes fixed on the tail end of Peter's car. "You ready?"

"Are you?" I countered, readjusting my grip on the seat. He gave a curt nod, though the slight whine he let slip suggested he wasn't nearly as ready as he was pretending to be. Unfortunately, the car was approaching fast, and we didn't have any better ideas.

"Hold tight," he instructed, before screwing up his face and jerking the steering wheel to the right.

Stiles's arm flew out at the moment of impact, stretching out across my chest and acting as a second restraint to keep me in my seat. We both yelped as the car jolted to a stop, an ominous cloud of gas rising from under the hood. There was a screeching of tires behind us as the traffic following the Jeep skidded to a halt. But thankfully, when I pried my eyes open, I felt for the most part unharmed.

"You okay?" Stiles asked in a strained voice. I nodded, taking a deep breath of relief.

"Uh, yeah. You?"

"Oh no," Stiles groaned, but he wasn't looking down at himself. I tried to ignore the way his hand brushed my collar as he retracted his arm, moving them to gesture solemnly to the hood of his Jeep. "You gotta be kidding me. He is so paying for my repairs." I giggled slightly in relief. The plan had been executed perfectly, and neither Stiles nor I were hurt. Unfortunately, the grin slid right off my face when I heard a car door slam.

"Stiles!" a shrill voice yelled, and we turned to look at each other with wide eyes.

"Shit," I whispered, and he nodded slightly. There hadn't actually been time to think about all of the effects of our plan before exacting it. Now it was time to deal with the consequences—namely Scott's very angry mother, whose first date in years had just been ruined by her son's friends.

Stiles clambered out first, and after taking a moment to prepare myself, I snuck out the passenger door after him. I shuffled meekly over to the front of the car, where he was already standing under the glower of Mrs. McCall.

"Wow, well this—this is just crazy!" Stiles laughed nervously. "What a coincidence, huh?" Mrs. McCall crossed her arms over her chest, laughing sardonically as a reply. "No really!" he insisted. "Of—Of all the cars in Beacon Hills and we had to hit yours!"

"We?" Scott's mother repeated. Suddenly, her eyes darted over to me, spotting me in the shadows just behind Stiles shoulder. "Sadie," she greeted, smiling in annoyance.

"Uh, hi Mrs. McCall," I replied, smiling sheepishly. I raised one hand in a nervous wave from where my arms were crossed over my chest. She narrowed her eyes at me, and I realized too late that it might have been a better idea to be screaming at Stiles, as if his driving had been responsible for the crash. Now we definitely looked like we were up to something.

"Okay, what exactly is going on here?" she snapped, glaring between the two of us.

"Going on?" Stiles repeated, his voice an octave higher than it usually was. "N-Nothing is going on here. Like at all. No things are going on or off anywhere around this accident."

"Stiles," Mrs. McCall drawled in a warning tone.

"I swear!" he exclaimed. "I mean—I do not know what happened! You guys just came out of no where!"

"Came out of no where?!" she repeated incredulously. "We were parked on the side of the road, Stiles!"

"How crazy is that?!" he cried, still laughing nervously. My eyes glided past Scott's mother as Peter approached us, smirking evenly. I unconsciously stepped closer to Stiles. Sensing my movement, he glanced down at me in concern before following my eyes to Peter. "Man, we should probably call the cops," he suggested quickly, right arm lifting just slightly to cover me. "You know, do like an accident report thing?"

"I don't think that's necessary," Peter replied, glancing at the near-invisible damage on his vehicle. I shuddered. Even just the sound of his voice made the incisions in my left arm twinge with pain. The Alpha's eyes darted to me with what I assumed was supposed to be a gracious smile, but I knew was a knowing sneer.

"Are you sure?" Stiles asked. The hand that wasn't guarding me reached up to the back of his neck, rubbing at some non-existent pain. "I think I'm feeling a little whiplash."

"Whiplash?!" Mrs. McCall screeched as Peter paced away once more. "You hit us!"

"I don't know," Stiles argued, contorting his face into a strange, pained expression. "There's something definitely wrong with my neck."

"Well then it's a good thing I'm a nurse," she growled menacingly.

"Uh, I'm not so sure," Stiles replied, tilting his head back and forth experimentally. "I think it might be best if I just got checked out at the hospital. I mean, I don't want to whine or anything…"

"Oh I'll give you something to whine about," Mrs. McCall hissed. But suddenly she froze, a look a realization taking over her face. "Hang on, hang on," she started, waving her hands in front of her. "Is this…? Are you here with Scott? Is this some kind of plan?"

"What?" Stiles choked, eyes wide. "Plan? No! Why—Why would there be a plan to hit your date's car?" Scott's mother sighed, caught between some sort of pity and extreme rage.

"I know this is the first time I've gone out since the divorce," she confessed. "But if he's uncomfortable with it Scott needs to start talking to me. So I need you two to tell me honestly right now if he asked you to do this."

"No," I spoke up immediately. "Mrs. McCall, I promise that Scott didn't ask us to ruin your date."

"Yeah," Stiles agreed, sounding perfectly earnest and abashed. "He wouldn't. Promise. S-Sadie and I were just, uh, you know, going for a drive."

"Going for a drive?" she repeated, cocking an eyebrow. She sounded marginally more calm after our pledges, but still suspicious.

"Yeah," I agreed, nodding firmly.

"You two were just aimlessly driving around on a Saturday night?" she asked skeptically.

"Well I wouldn't say aimlessly," Stiles debated, tossing his head to the side.

"Oh, of course not," she nodded, crossing her arms over her chest and smiling challengingly. "Then where exactly were you going?"

"Going? Where were we going?" he asked, eyes innocently wide. He glanced over at me but I simply shrugged. He was the one who suggested we had a destination. I had no idea what to say. "We were going…to get food," he decided. "Because…we are on a date!" My eyebrows instantly shot straight up towards my hairline, eyes widening and cheeks flushing as Mrs. McCall looked between us.

"Really?" she pressed, making Stiles laugh nervously.

"Yeah, totally!" he replied, wrapping an arm around my waist and tugging me to his side. I stumbled slightly, leaning heavily into his chest and making his arm tighten around me. "So—So you know, obviously I was nervous. Am. Am nervous. And I am sorry that I interrupted you because I may or may not have been—er—distracted by my lovely escort here." Mrs. McCall and I both turned to stare at him, and he looked anxiously back and forth between the two of us.

"Stiles," I finally managed to say, making him turn to me with wide, inquisitive eyes. "You ever call me a lovely escort again and I will not hesitate to castrate you." Stiles gulped, and Mrs. McCall seemed like she might have smirked if she weren't so annoyed with the pair of us.

"Ah," he breathed. "I—I would appreciate it if you could, uh, _not_ do that."

"Then you should probably keep your mouth shut," I snapped, glaring at him, then added as an afterthought, "_sweetheart_." I turned back to Mrs. McCall, who was watching the altercation with just a smidge of amusement.

"Well, as much as I wish that was an acceptable excuse, it's not," she decided, tightening her arms over her chest as if she were physically firming her resolve. "You can start by offering to pay for the repairs on the car you damaged."

"Oh, that's not really necessary, is it, Melissa?" Peter interjected calmly, walking back over to our group. "After all, they're just kids." He smiled warmly at us, nodding slightly in my direction. "Sadie, it's always nice to see you."

"H-Hang on," Mrs. McCall stuttered, holding up a hand and looking frantically between the Alpha and I. "You two know each other?"

"Quite a bit," Peter assured her, making me raise my eyebrows once more. "I'm acquainted with her mother actually. Does Claire still have the privilege of working safe at home with you, Sadie?" he asked, turning back to me. Stiles's arm tightened around my waist, not missing the hidden threat.

"Yeah," I replied quietly. "It…made the move a lot easier. We're really lucky." Peter grinned.

"Oh, well I'd say the really lucky one here is Mr. …?" He trailed of, raising an eyebrow at Stiles as if he actually didn't know anything about him.

"Stilinski," Mrs. McCall finished in annoyance, glaring at the boy in question. He nodded tersely, never relaxing his grip around me.

"Mr. Stilinski," Peter finished, dipping his head in greeting. "The accident doesn't seemed to have caused too much damage, and he still has a pretty girl by his side. Though, perhaps it would be safer if you both kept your hands to yourselves," he offered with a suggestive wink. "Just to avoid any more crashes." Stiles and I both gaped at him, looking fearfully at each other and scrambling apart at the silent accusation. I was fairly certain my face was completely pink from blushing at that point, and I could see Stiles's splotchy cheeks from the corner of my eye if I looked, which I tried not to. I stuffed my hands in my pockets for good measure, making Mrs. McCall smirk. She turned to Peter with a hesitant smile.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Positive," he replied kindly, leaning forward slightly with a small smile. "Any friend of Sadie's is a friend of mine. And it doesn't look like there was much harm done." Stiles and I shared a sidelong glance at the cryptic phrase, but Peter just continued to talk to Scott's mother. "Though, I do think it would be best if I took my car to get it checked. Why don't I give you my phone number, and we can take a rain check on dinner. Wait to start the night out on a good foot."

"God, I am so sorry," she apologized needlessly, smiling nervously. "I would love that."

"Perfect," he replied with his own grin. He reached into his leather jacket for a pen and a business card, leaning forward on his own card to scrawl down a number. "Mr. Stilinski," he called, not bothering to look up. "Maybe you would be so kind as to escort both the lovely ladies home? Your Jeep seems to be in…well, reasonable condition, and I would hate to strand Melissa half way to her house on top of having to reschedule."

"Drive…?" Stiles questioned, glancing between the three of us. He seemed just as confused as I felt. Why would Peter hand over Mrs. McCall so easily? But since we weren't exactly in the position to refuse favors, Stiles quickly nodded. "Yes! Absolutely! I—I will take it from here. Home safe and sound!" Mrs. McCall glared at him before jerking her head towards the Jeep. Stiles nodded dutifully. "Right, I'll just um… Let you guys say goodbye and…whatever…" He grabbed my arm, pulling me back towards the car before Peter or Melissa could call us back. He helped me into the Jeep, waiting until I was firmly seated in the back before climbing into the driver's seat himself and shutting the door behind him. We peered through the water-flecked windshield as Mrs. McCall ducked her head, smiling shyly up at Peter, who tucked a wet curl of hair behind her ear.

"Uck," I gagged, scrunching up my face. I thought it was lovely that Mrs. McCall had found someone she was attracted to, but I did sincerely wish it wasn't a murderer who morphed into a mutated canine taller than me.

"You said it, _sweetheart_," Stiles agreed dryly. I narrowed my eyes at him, smacking the back of his head hard. "Ouch!" he yelped, holding his head and turning around to give a reproachful look. "What was that for?!"

"Oh please," I shot, rolling my eyes.

"I was just...!"

"No," I cut him off, holding up a hand. "I'm so unbelievably frustrated with you right now and we're not going to talk about it."

"What did I do?!" he asked, offended with just a slight hint of desperation. Thankfully, Mrs. McCall climbed into the passenger seat before I had to answer. She was still fuming, which meant that Stiles immediately dropped the conversation he'd been having with me.

"Stiles, you know how insanely lucky you are he's not filing against you?!" she roared. Stiles held his hands up, skin seeming to turn a shade paler as she screamed at him in the small space.

"I—I know!" he assured. "Mrs. McCall, I am so, so unbelievably sorry."

"We both are," I added from the back, making Stiles nod. Mrs. McCall sighed, leaning forward to rest her head in her hands.

"Just…Just drive, Stiles," she pleaded, clearly drained. Stiles nodded.

"Yes, ma'am. McCall residence, coming right up."

"Oh no," she objected, looking up to brandish a finger at him. "You are driving Sadie home first."

"Wha…? Why?" he asked, glancing back at me in the rearview mirror. We still had no idea where Scott had run off to, and we needed to reconvene to talk about Peter's new tactics for getting the boy to join his pack.

"Because," she replied snippily, "If I don't get to go on my date, you don't get to go on yours." My cheeks tingled as I began blushing once again, and I ducked my head so I didn't have to watch the rest of the conversation. Stiles cleared his throat.

"Y-Yeah, that's—that's probably a fair point."

"Yeah," Mrs. McCall agreed.

"O-kay then. Sadie's house it is."

The rest of the ride was almost completely silent. Mrs. McCall seemed to be either lost in her own thoughts or holding back her rage, and Stiles and I didn't plan on pushing our luck by trying to speak. Instead, we just sat in an extremely uncomfortable silence, Stiles and Melissa looking dead ahead while I kept my head down, playing with a loose thread on the hem of my jeans.

Finally, the Jeep's brakes whined as we pulled up in front of my house. Stiles shot Mrs. McCall a nervous look before hopping out and lending a hand to help me out of the car. I paused once my feet were on the ground, turning back to Scott's mother.

"Well, goodnight Mrs. McCall," I bid with a sheepish smile. "I'm really sorry your night didn't go as planned."

"I am too," she replied tiredly. A few seconds later she turned to me with a tired smile. "I guess it's not really your fault though. Just, make sure Stiles drives a little safer in the future?"

"Oh," I breathed quickly, face flushing once more. "I p-promise I wasn't… I mean I didn't… That's not why we…" I restarted the sentence over and over, not sure I would ever be able to actually speak the words _"I promise we didn't crash because I was giving Stiles a handjob."_ Thankfully, Mrs. McCall just nodded knowingly.

"Yeah, I know, sweetie. I didn't think you did, just…careful, okay?" I nodded gratefully. "Goodnight, Sadie," she dismissed, and I sent her another nervous smile before backing away from the car. Stiles shut the driver's door, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he walked me up the drive.

"Well, I think I'm sufficiently traumatized for the night," he mused, and I nodded fervently in agreement.

"Peter has to be up to something," I whispered. "He wouldn't let her go that easily if he didn't have something planned."

"Yeah, I know," he conceded, pulling out his phone. "I'll text you when I hear from Scott, but so far it's radio silence."

"Sure," I agreed quietly. We descended into a few seconds of silence before we started climbing the stairs to the front door.

"Oh hey, I didn't get to ask. You find anything when you went shopping today?" he piped. My stomach clenched, but he prattled on. "I know that you said you weren't buying a dress until like Thursday, which I think is ridiculous by the way, but I was trying to figure out what the hell I'm supposed to do with myself."

"Black," I answered shortly. "Black goes with everything."

"Yeah, I guess so," he granted as we came to a stop in front of my door. I looked him over for a moment. His pants slightly baggy on his long legs, the dark hair on his arms standing up in the cold breeze as he stood there with just a short sleeved, plaid button down and no jacket. His cheeks were tinted a splotchy pink, though whether that was from residual embarrassment or the cold I wasn't sure. His sable eyes sparkled in the porch light, pink lips parted in a slight smile as he talked about taking me to the winter formal.

But we were only going as friends, I reminded myself. Actually, we weren't going together at all. But Stiles didn't know that, not yet. He'd been the one to bring up the dance. So really, it'd be the perfect time to tell him. It'd be so easy. All I had to do was say he should be worry about matching Lydia and not me, that I'd pulled some strings and he was going to be able to go on the date of his dreams. But we wouldn't be telling Lydia until Thursday, otherwise she'd have an entire week to weasel out of the situation and to criticize my decision. That left me with two options. I could lie to Stiles by omission, spend the week watching him watch Lydia wistfully, continue to listen to him whine like a lovesick puppy because he felt like Lydia would never give him the chance he deserved. That's what I'd been dealing with ever since Lydia and Jackson had broken up, and to be frank it was absolute torture. Or, I could tell him what I'd done. I could tell him I'd gotten him his date with Lydia, even though he still couldn't talk to her about it until Thursday. That would leave me with an exuberant Stiles. He'd most likely be a nervous wreck, pestering me about her favorite flowers and the color of her dress, whether she liked silver or gold better, which cologne he should wear, which one of the almost identical white shirts he should put on. He'd be so unbelievably excited that he probably wouldn't shut up. And as happy as he would be, I wasn't sure if I could handle that.

No, I couldn't tell him, I decided. I had no idea what I was going to say. Maybe I'd let Allison tell him. After all, Lydia was supposed to be doing this for her. Stiles wasn't supposed to know that Allison and Lydia were only going along with it because I asked, because I'd rather see him happy with Lydia than watch him be miserable with me.

"Is she watching?" Stiles asked, making me jump.

"What?"

"Scott's mom," he elaborated. "I'm pretty sure she's watching us stand here."

"Oh." I glanced back to the Jeep, noticing Mrs. McCall quickly turn away from where she'd been watching Stiles and I intently from the passenger seat. "So she is."

"Should we uh…?" Stiles trailed off, unsure of how to finish the question. I raised an eyebrow at him. "I mean, cause…because we were supposed to be on a date so…so she probably thinks, uh…" I fought to keep the blush off my cheeks as I realized what Stiles was trying to ask me.

"I don't kiss on the first date," I informed him in a confident voice that I was surprised belonged to me. "Especially when my 'lovely escort' crashes his car."

"Ah. I mean, yes. Obviously. Of course. Right. Good," he rambled. I took a hesitant step closer to him.

"Tell you what I will do though," I whispered. Stiles raised his eyebrows with interest.

"Y-Yeah?" I beamed, then reached forward and smacked him upside the head once more. Stiles winced. "Okay, yeah. I—I probably deserved that."

"Yeah," I agreed, smirking. "Text me when you hear from Scott."

"Will do," he conceded, taking a step back as I eased the door open. "Night, Bennet!" he called, just before the door shut. I hesitated for a second before firmly closing it. I closed my eyes, leaning my back against it and taking a deep breath.

"Yeah," I grumbled weakly, knowing full well he couldn't hear me. "Night, Stilinski."

Then I pushed myself off the wall and trudged back up the stairs, mentally preparing myself for another rough night of self-degrading nightmares that I wouldn't be able to control, and trying not to think about how it felt like my crush on Stiles Stilinski was probably going to be the death of me.

* * *

**A/N: Hey everyone! Okay, so prepare for a LONG A/N today. More trauma for you guys. I know, I've been reliably informed that I'm killing you, but I hope you're still enjoying it. I know that extensive emotional and depressing chapters can be hard to get through, but I feel it is a necessary evil. Hope you liked it anyway.**

**So first, a thank you to all my lovely readers, followers, favoriters and reviewers. Thank you for all of your wonderful and endless feedback! Sending my love to Guest, LynZann, Alexstarlight18, becca1130, SimplyKelly, kaljara, A Cool Guest, Britt, ScornedxRose, ellisbellisballs, SammieLuvsFood, Nelle07, Lil Miss Sunshine14, xALFiex, xxxxninaxxxx, OliviaMisfit, Isaac fan, Guest, LifeToDeath, lilyllama, 5daysofsummer, GetsueiNoYume, DetectiveKateTodd, Kelly1432, MissECharlotte, Lucy Greenhill, prettyargents, GuardianAngel45, ElithaAndWest, FridaMarsmellow, and LionHeartMisfit.**

**Second of all, people are making me THINGS?! And this makes me super happy! So there are now links in a section of my profile for all of the awesome things I've been given. Thank you to tumblr user lostinwonderland314 for the Polyvore version of Sadie's outfit, and any she plans on doing in the future. Thank you to tumblr user where-the-black-fern-grows for her lovely banner. Thank you to Briana, tumblr user c-bellz for her kick ass drawing of Sadie and Stiles, which is hanging on my wall shh. And one huge resounding thank you to Sarah, prettyargents/laheyboners for the Wild Side playlist she made?! You should ALL go check it out because it is perfect and amazing. Those links are on my profile, and you can also find those and the story snippets on the tumblr page.**

**Thirdly! Updates will be slow this week as I'm taking part in the Misha Collins scavenger hunt GISHWHES. Not sure how much time I'll have to write, but I'll try and keep getting stuff out. If you've got a twitter, I would adore you forever if you would go follow PNLWGishClock to help us out, and if not, your patience and understand will be thanks enough.**

**Fourthly, if you ship Stiles and Cora, I accidentally wrote a five page one shot about them. That's on my profile too, so you can go check that out.**

**Fifthly, I've never actually gotten to a point in a fanfiction before where I had to write a make out scene, and I only got a handful of comments about it last chapter. I'm assuming that's a good thing, since none of you seemed to think anything of it, but I just want to make sure those scenes are coming out good and that you're enjoying them.**

**Sixthly, I need to shut up. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I can't wait to hear what you have to say!**

**-Brittney**


	28. Chapter 28

Thursday afternoon found me sitting in Allison's bedroom. We were both perched on her bed, staring at my phone between us, as we had been for at least ten minutes. I reached for the phone again, then pulled my hand back once more.

"I can't," I sighed for what must have been the fiftieth time. "I can't do it. Why can't you do it?"

"No," Allison replied firmly, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm not calling him because this wasn't my idea. If you want Stiles to go to the dance with Lydia, you're gonna be the one telling him." I groaned, falling down so that my back bounced on the mattress. I did want Stiles to go with Lydia. Well, that wasn't quite true. What I wanted was for Stiles to be happy, and that meant going with Lydia. The formal was the next night, but I hadn't been able to muster up the courage to tell him yet. "You know you don't have to do this," Allison reminded me gently. "Stiles doesn't know yet, and neither does Lydia. The only people who know this is happening are you, me and Scott."

I closed my eyes with a sigh. Scott. I'd certainly gotten an earful from him. Allison had apparently gone over his house after we went shopping, wanting to thank him again for the necklace and voice her concerns about her family to someone else. But since she wasn't sure how to start off, she started rambling about the other part of our conversation—me backing out of my date with Stiles so he could take Lydia. Scott had been too distracted by Peter and his mother to lecture me when he saw me later, and then he'd had to save Jackson and been attacked by hunters. But once everything had calmed down on Monday, he'd suddenly remembered that he was supposed to be upset with me. He called me after school, visited me at work, texted me repeatedly, every time pleading that I would reconsider going with Stiles. He maintained that the "bro code" stopped him from saying anything specific, but informed me that as much as Stiles loved Lydia, he was really excited about going with me. I'd countered that if he really did want to go with me, he could always turn down the offer to go with Lydia. That, of course, had worried Scott. We both knew that there wasn't a chance in the universe that Stiles would turn down a date with Lydia. Scott and Allison both begged me not to leave it down to that, but I was resolved. Stiles didn't have to go with Lydia. If for some reason he wanted to go with me, he could. But I wasn't going to deprive him of the chance to live out his dream.

"No," I sighed, sitting up on the bed once more. "I do have to do this." I grabbed the phone and stood up, taking a deep breath as I scrolled through my contacts. I hesitated, staring at Stiles's name for a few more seconds before actually beginning the call. I hardly breathed as the phone rang, pacing anxiously at the foot of Allison's bed.

_"Beacon Hills Lycanthrope Expert, what's your query?"_ Despite my nerves about the conversation to follow, I smirked.

"I thought you said that was me," I greeted, and I heard him chuckle on the other end.

_"True. My apologies. What's up, Bennet?"_

"Well, Stilinski," I started slowly. Allison pouted on the bed. She'd always said that Stiles and I calling each other by our last names was adorable, and apparently she couldn't bear to hear it at the moment. "Who's your best friend?"

_"Scott,"_ he answered immediately. I rolled my eyes. I really should have anticipated that answer.

"Okay, who is your best female friend?"

_"I don't know,"_ he pondered, though I could hear a smirk in his voice. _"I'm pretty tight with Ashlea. Actually, no. I haven't talked to Heather in a while, but I've known her forever so…"_

"Stiles," I said in a warning tone.

_"What?"_ he laughed. _"Best female friend is a big title. You've gotta earn it."_

"Oh, and I haven't?" I countered. "Please, you wouldn't survive without me." I tried to keep it ambiguous, knowing I couldn't actually remind him about saving his ass from werewolves in front of Allison. But the chuckle over the phone let me know Stiles had completely understood what I was trying to say.

_"Yeah, okay, I'd probably be dead,"_ he conceded. _"Why is this important?" _I took another deep breath. This was the last moment I could turn back. I could just tell him I wanted to remind him and that I was going shopping for a dress in a little bit. I could ask him how much he'd hate me if I made him wear purple to formal. All I had to do was come up with an excuse. And then I'd have to deal with a less-than enthusiastic Stiles at the winter formal, staring at Lydia and continuing to wonder what it would be like to be her date. I wasn't ready to endure that.

"What would you say," I started slowly, "if I told you that you could go to the formal with Lydia?"

_"Lydia?"_ he repeated. _"As in your best friend Lydia Martin?"_

"That's the one," I agreed weakly. Stiles laughed.

_"I'd say it was very impolite of you to obtain such high quality drugs and not invite me over to share in your delusions."_ I chuckled feebly, running a hand through my hair.

"I'm not on drugs, Stiles," I replied. "I'm being serious."

_"Cute, Sadie,"_ he almost grumbled. _"Why would the amazing girl I've had a crush on since I was eight suddenly decide after ten years of ignoring me to be my date to the winter formal?"_

"Because she kissed Scott," I explained. Stiles scoffed.

_"What?"_

"Look, Allison found out about what happened that day," I elaborated. "And Lydia said she'd do anything to make it up to her. So, Allison's asking her to cancel her date with Mesman and go with you instead." There were a few seconds of solid silence on the other end of the phone.

_"Seriously?"_

"Yeah, Stiles, seriously," I assured him.

_"Oh my God,"_ he gasped. _"Oh my God, you're being serious!"_

"Yeah, Stiles," I sighed again.

_"A-And she—she said yes?!"_ he stammered. _"She said she'd do it?!"_

"She doesn't really have a choice," I reminded him. "But she doesn't know yet. So don't go running over to our house with flowers just yet."

_"O-Okay!"_ he agreed frantically. _"Okay! Okay! Yes! I will—I will…! Oh my God, what am I gonna do? What am I supposed to do? W-When are you gonna tell her? Do I get her flowers? When should I pick her up?"_

"Stiles!" I cut him off in annoyance, even though I'd been preparing myself for a similar response. "I don't know."

_"Right. No. Sorry. I just…wow…"_

"Look," I sighed tiredly, earning myself a sympathetic look from Allison. "We're meeting Lydia at the mall in like twenty minutes. I'll text you when we get there so we can meet up, and you can talk to her about all of the details then."

_"Yes, that's—good plan. Thank you Sadie for that good plan."_

"Right," I replied, narrowing my eyes at Allison's bedspread. "I'll see you later. Bye."

_"Woah, woah, woah, wait!"_ Stiles called me back, so loudly I could hear him perfectly clear with the phone a foot away from my ear. _"What about you?"_

"What about me what?" I sighed.

_"You know, since I'm going with Lydia, what are you gonna do?"_

"I don't know, Stiles," I admitted, a little more edge in my voice that I'd intended. "Don't worry about it."

_"No!"_ he objected, making my heart flutter pitifully. _"Of course I'm gonna worry about it. I'm not just gonna abandon my awesome, previous date to formal without some sorta Plan B."_

"Stiles, do you want to go with Lydia or not?" I snapped, rapidly becoming frustrated by his loyalty, which I hadn't factored into my plan.

_"What? Yes! O-Of course I do, but…"_

"Then I'll find another date," I assured him. "Or I'll go by myself. Whatever. I'll be fine." Stiles paused for a moment, obviously not very comforted by my argument.

_"A-And you're fine with this?"_ he pressed. _"I mean, you're okay with it if I go with Lydia?"_ I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. He just had to ask. I didn't want to lie to him though, so I prepared to chose my words carefully.

"Stiles," I sighed. "I know that you're crazy about her. You deserve a chance with her, and I'm not gonna stand in the way of you and your dream girl. Besides," I added as an after thought, trying to hide my bitterness. "We were just going as friends anyway."

_"Yeah,"_ he agreed after a few seconds. _"I mean, if you're sure then, then awesome. Thank you."_

"Stiles, you don't need to thank me," I laughed forcibly. "If anything you can thank Allison."

_"No, well I mean, thanks for being cool with it, and thanks for calling me, and thanks for being awesome. You know, cause you're awesome and—and Lydia's awesome, and this whole thing is freaking awesome."_

"Awesome," I conceded with a small smile. "I'm gonna go though. I'll text you when we get to the mall."

_"Yeah! Awesome! Okay, no, I'm gonna stop saying awesome now. Just—thanks, Bennet." _The use of my last name made me wince, and I actually felt myself crumbling from the inside out.

"See ya, Stilinski," I said quickly, before quickly ending the call. I raised a hand to my mouth, fingernails digging into my cheek as I tried to keep myself together. Allison jumped off her bed, rushing over and pulling me into a hug.

"Hey, it's okay," she whispered soothingly. She tugged me over to the bed, sitting next to me on the end and rubbing my back gently as I tried to keep my breathing even. We sat in silence like that for a few minutes. Allison may not have known what to say, but I found that I was profoundly thankful for her presence. I knew that she hadn't wanted me to go through with the plan in the first place. She'd wanted Stiles and I to get together since before I even realized I liked him myself. But I knew that now I'd followed through on my decision, Allison would be there to support me and help me through it. There was no turning back now, so we'd just have to make due.

"Okay," I finally whispered hoarsely. "Let's…Let's just go."

"Okay," she echoed quietly. "I've just gotta grab something. Stay here, okay?" I nodded silently, wrapping my arms around my waist as Allison patted my shoulder and dashed out of the room. I sat there quietly for a few moments before flopping back onto the bed once more. I closed my eyes, trying to concentrate on my breathing until Allison returned. Unfortunately, I was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Can I come in?" Kate's voice called. I folded my arms over my head.

"Allison's not in here," I informed her.

"Well, I'm coming in anyway," she replied brightly, opening the door without invitation. Kate strode inside in all her glory, head held high and looking even more confident than she usually did. She wore a pale purple tank top and a leather jacket, thin black jeans that ran down her legs into black boots. She was grinning mischievously, an expression I probably would have described as the cat that caught the canary. I tried not to think about Scott's story of Saturday night. How he'd gone to the Hale house to stop Derek from killing Jackson, but ended up stumbling away with a gunshot wound while Derek attempted to hold off the hunters. I attempted to suppress the image Kate holding him hostage, torturing him, maybe killing him. She didn't know that I knew about werewolves, and I had to keep it that way. And Scott was sure that Derek was still alive.

Her smile faltered just slightly when she saw my position on the bed. She recomposed herself, pouting thoughtfully as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Okay, what's with the depressing corpse pose, kiddo?" I sighed piteously as she walked closer to the bed.

"Boys suck," I groaned childishly. Kate smiled knowingly.

"You still going on about this Stiles kid?" I nodded, covering my eyes with a hand so I might be able to block out the world. "What's wrong?"

"Everything," I grumbled vaguely. I felt the bed shift as Kate took Allison's vacated seat next to me.

"And by 'everything' do you mean how he's still hung up on your best friend and doesn't seem to have any qualms whatsoever about ditching you to go to the formal with her?" I lifted my hand from my face, looking at her in confusion.

"He had some qualms," I defended. "How did you…?"

"Besides what you told me?" she interrupted. "Allison and I had a…really long talk last weekend after you girls went shopping."

"About my pitiful love life?" I questioned. Kate shrugged.

"Among other things," she replied. She looked away, smiling fondly at the memory of the conversation. I quirked an eyebrow. What was that supposed to mean? Kate caught my confused look and sighed. "In her defense," she diffused. "She really didn't know what to do about you asking her to break up your date. She wanted to know what I thought she should do, since she obviously wanted you to go with him."

"What'd you tell her?" I asked, heaving myself back up into a sitting position and clasping my hands in my lap.

"Well, you're not going with him, right?" she reminded me with a smile. I tossed my head to the side, nodding tiredly. "I told her that I thought you were right." I glanced hopefully over at her small grin. "It's not gonna be the date you want if he's tripping over his feet to see your friend. You don't need to be attached to that by being his date. You're perfectly capable of having fun with your friends and being gorgeous without him." She poked me in the side, making me grin grudgingly.

"Yeah, well being right sucks," I muttered. Kate scrunched up her face comically, tossing her head back and forth as she considered my assessment.

"Eh, once in a blue moon," she replied with a smirk. "But I generally enjoy rubbing my superiority in other people's faces." I smirked at the very Kate statement. "You could always taze him," she offered, making me laugh.

"I don't think that'd go over really well in the middle of the dance floor," I disputed. "Besides, he's already kind of twitchy. I'd hate to see him electrocuted."

"Well you've gotta do something!" Kate argued, slapping her hands on her thighs. "You can't just sit around moping like this over some guy. That's not the kickass Miss Sadie Bennet I know."

"What did you have in mind?" I asked quietly with a smirk. Kate grinned.

"The same thing you had in mind when Allison dumped Scott," she explained with a wolfish smile. "How about you and Allison go meet up with Lydia and your supremely oblivious ex-date at the mall, pick out a drop dead sexy dress that will make Stiles wish he were lucky enough to take you, and then you, my lovely niece and I can hit the range."

"I don't know," I contemplated with a small smile, looking down at my lap. Kate scoffed.

"Oh, please. Do you have something better to do? Are you going home to gorge yourself one ice cream and watch, like _Pretty in Pink_ to prep for the dance or something?"

"_Carrie_, actually," I corrected with a smirk. Kate rolled her eyes.

"Well at least you've still got your humor," she commended. "Come on. I've gotta keep Allison's shooting sharp, and you clearly need to blow off some steam. Doesn't have to be too long. I've got a, uh…friend I gotta catch up with anyway." She smiled at her own private joke, and I had to repress another image of Derek chained up somewhere dark, bruised and bloodied. When she continued to look at me expectantly, I relented.

"Okay, sure," I gave in, nodding firmly. "I guess I'd feel a little better after messing around with some powerful firearms."

"Trust me, honey," she chuckled, pulling me to my feet. "If you're anything like me, you're gonna feel miles better. Now, scoot! Allison's waiting downstairs." She ushered me out into the hall, pushing me towards the stairs. I paused, peering over the banister at Allison, who was indeed standing with her purse by the front door. She smiled tentatively up at me, and I glanced back at Kate.

"I thought she was just grabbing something?" I asked. Kate shrugged.

"Hey, don't look at me. Just go get your cute little asses to the mall and pick out a pair of dresses that'll make their jaws drop." She punctuated the order with a wink, making me shake my head but follow the instructions regardless. Feeling marginally better, I followed Allison's lead to her car, steeling myself for the impending conversation I'd be having with Lydia.

When we pulled into the parking lot, I sent a text to Lydia and to Stiles to let them know we'd arrived. Lydia had taken a few minutes to text us back with her location, while it'd hardly taken ten seconds for Stiles to send me a hurried, misspelled chunk of text assuring me that he'd pretty much been sitting in the parking lot since he got off the phone with me. I sighed.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Allison asked gently. I nodded, deciding not to reply to Stiles and text Scott instead. He'd wanted me to keep him updated on Allison's whereabouts, since he suspected Peter might be trying to go after her. I'd been spending a lot of time with her to keep her safe, and I knew that Scott had been awkwardly stalking her from a distance in case the Alpha showed up.

"Honestly?" I sighed, slipping the phone back into my purse and straightening my dress. "I just want to get it over with at this point." Allison nodded, and we climbed out of the car to begin our search for Lydia.

"Finally!" she squealed happily when we met her on the first floor of Macy's. "Guys, this is dress shopping! Try and look a little more excited!" I gave her a double thumbs up, pulling on a painfully large smile that made Allison giggle and Lydia glare at me. "There's no need to be sarcastic," she snapped, and I relaxed.

"Lydia, there's always a need to be sarcastic. It's a fundamental quality of my personality."

"One I really wish I could have weeded out of you," she commented wistfully before turning on her heel. "Come on! Formal wear is on level two!" Allison sent me another cautious side glance, and I nodded to her discreetly. I was ready.

"Are you two alright?" Lydia asked as we piled onto the escalator. "You're awfully quiet, and quiet is not a desirable quality in best friends going formal shopping."

"Perfectly fine," I assured her, fiddling with the hem of my dress. "Just trying to figure out what I want still." Lydia turned expectantly to Allison.

"Nothing's wrong," she replied, though her voice seemed so tired at that moment even I wasn't sure if I believed her. "I just…I have a lot on my mind."

"You could smile at least," she suggested, crossing her legs and leaning on the railing. "Ever hear the saying, 'Never frown. Someone could be falling in love with your smile'?"

"Excuse me," I interrupted. "You stole that from a fortune cookie and you know it." Lydia glared at me playfully over her shoulder.

"Smile, girls," she ordered. "I'm buying you both dresses."

"I have to admit, as far as apologies go, that's more than I expected," Allison offered, staring down at her feet.

"Excellent," Lydia replied, standing up a little straighter and smiling proudly. Until Allison continued.

"But not as much as I'm gonna ask."

"What?" Lydia asked, her voice slightly shrill. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Allison began slowly. She glanced at me once more and I nodded encouragingly. She sighed reluctantly and turned back to Lydia. "You're going to cancel on whatever dumb, roided-up jock you said 'yes' to, and you're going to go with someone else."

"Who?" Lydia asked nervously as we finally stepped onto the second floor. Allison turned to face her, glancing over her shoulder at Stiles, who was already in position.

"Him." Lydia followed her eyes over to the perfume station, and we all paused to watch Stiles. He was leaning on the counter, looking at one of the test bottles with mild interest. He must have been holding just a tad too tight, because he promptly sprayed himself in the face. He dropped the bottle back on the counter, stumbling back as he spluttered and sneezed. I smiled, my giggles wavering just as much as the butterflies in my stomach. Stiles looked up, beaming when he saw us, and threw up an awkward wave.

"Who?" Lydia asked. "I only see Stiles."

"Yeah," Allison informed her with a nod. "That's who you're going with."

"What?!" Lydia hissed. "No!" I watched as Stiles's grin faltered a few yards away. He didn't need to be able to hear us to realize that Lydia's reaction hadn't been a good one. I quickly stepped between them, turning my back on Stiles so I could face my best friend head on.

"Lydia, listen," I began calmly, but she'd crossed her arms over her chest and was glaring at me.

"No!" she replied adamantly. "No! I am not taking your date from you! You're supposed to be excited you're going with him! You _were_ excited you were going with him!"

"Yeah, well, he wasn't," I snapped, cutting off her tirade. Lydia shut her mouth, looking at me with annoyed sympathy. "Lydia, please," I begged. "Stiles has liked you forever. He's a fantastic guy, and I know that he will make sure this dance is everything you want it to be. He deserves a chance."

"Well I think you deserve a chance!" she countered quietly. "Because I think you're an amazing person who's been tripping herself up over this guy trying to get him to notice her, and I know that you'd be perfect for the idiot! So why isn't this about him giving you a chance?!"

"Because I have the power get him a chance with you," I explained. "And even if he did go with me, he'd just be wishing I was you." Lydia pouted, glancing over my shoulder at Stiles once more. "Please, Lydia," I implored again, "You're not snatching away a willing date. You're saving me from a night of being ignored when I should be happy… You're my best friend. _Please_ just do this for me."

"I cannot believe you just used the best friend card," she huffed, stomping slightly.

"Actually, this is you making it up to me," Allison stepped in, backing me up. "And I had to make something up to Sadie, so she got to choose what you had to do." Lydia glared between the two of us, but the ferocity deteriorated with every glance, until she looked over my shoulder once more. Finally, she sighed.

"He better be like the best date on the planet," she conceded, and I smiled.

"He's fantastic," I assured her, making her roll her eyes.

"I already know _you_ think that, Sadie," she groaned. I grinned, grabbing her wrist and towing her over to the perfume counter where Stiles was rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

"Lydia," I began, turning her to face him. "Your date Stiles. Stiles, your date Lydia." Stiles looked like he was ready to faint just hearing the phrase. He chuckled nervously, waving his arms excitedly once more. At a stern look from Allison, he clasped his hands, trying to keep them under control as he held them in front of him.

"Hey, Lydia," he greeted shakily. "I—I know you may not exactly want to go with me, but I just want to say thank you and I promise I'm gonna…"

"Sh!" Lydia cut him off, holding up a single finger to silence him. The pale boy nearly choked himself as he immediately swallowed the rest of his sentence. "Yes, I've been informed that you'll be a perfect gentleman," she replied, glaring at me slightly. "So you can start by carrying all of my dresses. Try and keep up." Without waiting for a reply, she turned on her heel, marching over to the dress section with her head held high. Stiles stared after her in awe, frozen until I tapped him on the shoulder.

"She's not joking. You—You should probably follow her," I advised. Stiles jumped a bit, as if he'd momentarily forgotten that Allison and I were there.

"Right!" he declared, nodding fervently as he turned to face Allison and I. "You are right. Sadie, Allison. Thank you. You—You are right. You are awesome. You are perfect."

"I know," I cut him off, holding up a hand. "Now go show her that you are." Stiles smiled warmly at me for just a few more seconds before he scampered off after Lydia. I watched him go, Allison wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

"You okay?" she asked with concern.

"Yeah," I answered with a small smile. "That actually…went a lot better than I was expecting it to."

"Come on," she urged, tugging me over to a different section of formal dresses. "Let's just find something and get out of here."

Though we'd been searching for what felt like ages and thousands of trips to the mall, I wasn't that much closer to deciding what I wanted to wear to the dance. I'd finally decided against purple, since it was something I knew I looked good in and wore all the time. I wanted to try something different, but I wasn't quite sure what I meant by that. Lydia had banned both black and white, mandating that I had wear an "actual color." I was planning on something blue at the moment, but none of those dresses had caught my eye and fit as well. The ones that fit I didn't like. It was a vicious cycle that made me hate dress shopping when I actually _needed_ a dress.

"So, have you thought about what you're going to do about the dance?" Allison asked conversationally a few minutes later, standing on the opposite side of the rack I was looking through.

"Well," I mused, "I thought I might show up and dance with my friends. Maybe wear like a dress or something." Allison rolled her eyes, glaring at me playfully.

"You know what I mean," she replied. "I mean it's completely fine if you want to go by yourself, but since Lydia's going with Stiles and I'm going with Jackson…" She giggled slightly as I pulled a disgusted face and gagged at the mention of the lacrosse captain's name. She knew that I suddenly had a terrible grudge against him, but as far as she was concerned it was only me playing the role of Lydia's best friend. I had to hate him on principal because he dumped her, but Allison knew nothing specific about how vile, arrogant and shallow I thought he was. So instead of confronting me about it, she brushed off my reaction. "I didn't know if you'd feel weird going by yourself."

"I've thought about it a little," I replied vaguely. Allison paused, staring down at a dress she'd pulled out with an expression that said she wasn't really looking at it.

"You could take Scott," she offered quietly. "I mean, Lydia's taking your date, and I'm taking hers. It kinda makes sense you'd take mine, right?"

"Thanks. That's sweet," I responded with a small smile. "I don't know. I'll keep it in mind, but I don't think Scott wants to go with anyone that's not you." That thought made Allison smile, though she tried to hide it behind a curtain of hair. We turned back to shopping, moving on to the next rack to look through. "Actually," I began thoughtfully as Lydia marched past us on her way to the dressing room, Stiles in tow with what looked like twenty dresses in his arms. "I was thinking about maybe asking Isaac Lahey." I cringed as Stiles yelped behind me. Judging by the clatter and the look of mild concern on Allison's face as she looked over my shoulders, he'd tripped into one of the dress racks and was flailing to regain his balance. As amusing as the image was in my head, I decided not to turn around. Noticing my complete lack of response, Allison hurried to continue the conversation.

"Isaac Lahey?" she repeated, raising her eyebrows. "Do I know him?"

"Probably not," I replied with a small smile. "He kind of keeps to himself. He lives across the street from your vile formal date." Allison nodded.

"And when you say that, do you mean you wanna ask him to go with you, or that you want him to be your _date_?"

"Probably just come with me," I clarified, thoughtful look crossing over my face as I picked up a sea foam green dress. Allison shook her head, taking the dress out of my hands and putting back on the rack as a reject. "I mean, he's kind of cute, but he's also ridiculously shy. I'm not sure he'd go at all if someone doesn't ask him to."

"Well I think that's sweet," Allison commended with a smile, tugging me over to the next section of dresses. She picked up a short dress, the chest black with a red ribbon under the bust, while the rest of the skirt seemed to be made of white feathers. I scrunched my nose up in distaste, making Allison pout. "No? I mean I know the feathers look a little weird…" She adjusted the mirror in front of us so she could hold the dress up, and cut her sentence off with a gasp. I turned to her in alarm, looking around until I spotted what had caused her to be so jumpy.

Peter Hale stood just a few feet away, watching us intently from behind. He looked unassuming enough, even innocent, but the sight of him still made my blood run cold. I momentarily lost sight of all our surroundings, flashing back to my dream at the hospital. _"You'll be stronger, more agile, more beautiful. Maybe even beautiful enough to compete with Lydia." _Then he'd pounced, eyes glowing red, teeth bared, ripping into my side…

"That's not your color." Peter's voice snapped me back to reality. He'd walked closer while I'd been in a panicked daze, taking our sudden realization of his presence as an invitation to join us. And I hadn't tried to do a thing about it. I cursed at myself in my head, helpless as Allison glanced awkwardly between Peter's placid face and the dress in her hands. "Sorry if that was intrusive," he amended. "But considering your skin tone, I'd go lighter." His seemingly harmless comment put Allison a little more at ease, and she smiled awkwardly even as I stepped closer to her.

"Because I'm pale?" she asked.

"Fair," Peter corrected with kind smile. "Well, you can't call skin like yours pale. Not skin that perfect."

"Okay?" Allison laughed nervously, putting the dress back on the rack.

"Trust me," he pressed on, turning his gaze to me as Allison stared down at her feet. "I have a…unique perspective on the subject." He winked at me, as if I was supposed to enjoy his inside joke about being a burn invalid before he began murdering people. Instead of laughing, I narrowed my eyes at him, causing him to raise a challenging eyebrow. "Do you mind?" Before I could stop him, Peter had snatched up Allison's hand, grabbing a nearby silver dress to compare it to. Allison looked to me fearfully, attempting to shrug away without being rude. "See? Much better." I stepped forward protectively, snatching both Allison's hand and the hanger out of Peter's grasp.

"Wow, thanks," I cheered when I'd finally found my voice, pushing the dress into Allison's hands. "God, that looks great. Who knew Macy's hired such great, invasive fashion consultants? Let's go try it on." I linked my arm with hers, attempting to pull her away, but Peter took a step to the side and blocked my path.

"And, what about you?" he asked, his voice dangerously calm. "Are you looking for a dress?"

"No," I replied sharply, but Allison had contradicted me by nodding. She stopped abruptly when she heard my denial, but Peter had already received his answer. He smiled knowingly, rocking back on his heels.

"Ah. High school dance?"

"Formal," Allison answered timidly. Peter practically beamed.

"Well, then you're going to need the perfect dress," he pointed out, turning back to me.

"Thanks," I snapped, "but as fun as this has been, I've already got my best friend for meddlesome fashion advice so I'm not really looking for any help."

"Sadie," Allison hissed scornfully, but Peter simply smirked. It was infuriating. The only thing I felt I could do to fight was to stand up to him, but the more confident and snarky I was, the happier Peter seemed to be. I didn't want him to be pleased. I wanted him to be pissed.

"I understand," he conceded with a small nod. "I'll just say I think you'd look lovely in a…blood red?" He'd phrased it as a helpful question, but I'd frozen just the same, frightened to the core by the hidden threat. Before I'd composed myself enough to reply, the music playing on the stereo system throughout the store paused for an announcement.

_"Attention shoppers. The owner of a blue Mazda, license plate 5UN I768, your car is being towed…"_

"Did she just say blue Mazda?" Allison gasped. "Oh my god, that's my car! I'll be right back!" She shoved the dress into my hands and dashed away towards the escalator. She was safe, but had consequently left me alone with the Alpha of my nightmares. Literally.

"That was good," he complimented once he'd recovered from the slight shock of his target running away. "You kids make such a good team, don't you?"

"Yup," I agreed nervously. "Like Bat Squad good." Peter chuckled, taking a step towards me. Despite how hard I tried to fight it, I involuntarily took a step back, trying to keep myself from imagining him with red eyes, the pointed teeth… Peter smirked victoriously.

"I know you're there, Scott," he said evenly. He was still looking at me, talking _at_ me while he spoke _to_ Scott, who was no doubt hidden in the store somewhere nearby. I knew there was nothing he could do to help me, but a part of me still wished he'd come running in to fend Peter off. "I have to say, I continue to be impressed with your ingenuity," Peter commended. "Just remember…you can't be everywhere all the time. Even when you do have your lovely assistants to help." Peter smiled widely at me, tilting his head to the side as if her were admiring a unique painting rather than a teenage girl. "I know that you don't want to hear this, Sadie, but I sincerely admire your bravery…and your attitude." He chuckled slightly, taking another step closer. This time I was able to hold my ground. "Or maybe, you just don't want to hear it from me," he whispered conspiringly. He glanced over his shoulder, and I followed his gaze to the dressing rooms. Stiles was sitting on a couch outside, half-buried under a mountain of dresses that Lydia had picked out for herself. Even from this distance I could see his leg bouncing nervously as he waited for her to emerge, the tick causing the entire mound of fabric to jolt with each beat. My heart sank. Peter knowing about my feelings for Stiles had been terrifying enough in my dream. I didn't need him taunting me about it while I was awake as well. But once again, Peter didn't wait for me to recover before replying. "I wasn't being facetious when I told you you'd look good in red," he added. "A darker, blood red or scarlet would look much better on you than, say, cherry red. Here." Peter seemed to produce a dress out of thin air, pulling it off one of the racks so quickly and silently I hardly saw the movement at all. He pressed the dress into my hands with a smirk. "A passionate color for a passionate girl. And I think it will highlight that flush of yours if you and your date manage to get into any, er, trouble." I knew there was another threat in his statement, a warning, but I didn't seem to be able to comment on it.

"He's not my date anymore," I snapped, as if that were pertinent information. Peter smirked rolling his eyes.

"Because that matters when you're a teenager," he scoffed. "Please, Sadie, I'm not as old as you might think I am. I remember what it's like to be in high school." For some reason, this comment was even more unsettling than the threat. Not because I was concerned about Peter's age, but because he just seemed so at ease. Like he was honestly just some friendly adult talking to me about my boy problems and not a murderous werewolf who wanted my friends dead.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked quietly. I was sure why I asked, or what I even meant by it. Was I asking about the murderers? About Scott? About our would-be-casual conversation? What was I expecting to accomplish by asking in the first place? But the question did manage to knock Peter off his game. His smiled fell away, leaving his face completely blank, almost contemplative.

"Because something was taken from me," he explained calmly. "And I wish more than anything that I could get it back." That was apparently as much of an answer as I was allowed, because after that Peter composed his face into a smile once more. "At least try the dress on. I promise it will look good." He gave me a short nod before finally backing away. "I'm sure I'll see you tomorrow, Sadie. I may not be able to resist the temptation of a good party." Without another word, he turned around and walked away. I watched him go, still standing completely frozen with the two dresses in my hands and wondering what that was supposed to mean. I didn't snap out of it until Scott came dashing up to me, quickly grabbing my shoulders.

"Hey, Sadie, are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," I assured him, shaking my head slightly. "I'm fine. He just creeps me out is all."

"Look, I wish I could stay to make sure you're okay, but Allison…"

"I know," I assured him, shrugging his hands off and waving him towards the escalator. "Go keep her safe. Go!" Scott nodded in appreciation before dashing away to keep an eye on his ex girlfriend. Shopping mood suddenly zapped out of me, I trudged over to the dressing room to stand behind Stiles. "You alive under there?" I asked, prodding a protruding piece of teal taffeta.

"I was hoping you could tell me," he replied, voice muffled by the silver dress he hand thrown over his face as he rested his head back on the edge of the couch. "I can't decide if I'm in heaven or hell."

"Well, you should probably start by opening your eyes," I giggled, moving the dress off his face to an emptier part of the couch. His eyelashes fluttered as he opened his eyes, staring up into my face upside down.

"Solid advice," he countered after a moment, grinning slightly. I smiled in return, but before I could respond Lydia came bursting out of the dressing room.

"What about this one?" she asked, staring down at the sleek aquamarine dress she was wearing. "And if you say 'they all look great' one more time, so help me God," she grumbled. She paused, sighing in relief when she looked up and spotted me. "Sadie! Fantastic! What do you think about this dress?"

"Nice color," I commented, tilting my head to the side. "But that skirt could look thousands of times better. Pass." Lydia beamed.

"See? Now that is helpful. What do you have?"

"Hm?" I looked down and realized I was still holding the two dresses the Peter had picked out, neither of which I was intending on purchasing. "Oh, nothing actually. I was just going to put these back."

"Without trying them on?" Lydia scolded. "No. Absolutely not. Here. Now." I groaned, reluctantly walking around the couch so Lydia could snatch up my wrist and drag me into the dressing room with her. As an after thought, she grabbed the discarded dress from her stall and dashed back out to dump them on Stiles. "Could you put those back?" she asked sweetly. Then, without waiting for an answer, she scooped up the dresses she hadn't tried on yet and stormed back into the hall.

"Lyd, you can't just abuse him as a pack mule," I scolded half-heartedly. The sight of Stiles drowning in layer upon layer of tulle was too amusing for me to be truly upset. Lydia rolled her eyes.

"Of course I can. That's what he's here for," she argued, shoving several dresses into my hands and spinning me towards my own stall. "Besides, I don't need his opinion anymore because you're here. Try on the pink and black one first." She shoved me into the room, snapping the door closed behind me and leaving no room for argument.

Reluctantly, I conceded to letting Lydia dress me up like a paper doll. The pink and black one was too poufy, the yellow one and the blue one too short, and the teal dress had a neckline that just didn't work with my figure. It went on and on and on. Eventually, Allison rejoined up, informing me with relief that the announcement about her car had been a false alarm. Then she joined our game of dress up, modeling and critiquing with Lydia and me.

Over an hour later, Lydia and Allison had both decided on their dresses. Lydia had chosen a short, strapless dress, champagne pink fabric bisected by a thick black ribbon under her bust with a decorative jewel placed to the side. Allison had opted to go with the silver dress the "weirdo fashion stylist" had picked out for her, which was simple, silver and ruffled. Lydia had finally agreed to purchase it for her, but only after they'd found a ridiculously large, jeweled necklace to dress it up with. Now they were both lounging on the couch in boredom, waiting for me to find a dress that we all agreed on. Lydia kept Stiles busy running dresses back to their original spots, making sure he was never in sight when I emerged in a new dress.

"I don't know guys," I groaned, tugging on the bottom of the too-short green dress I was currently sporting. "Maybe I'll just re-wear that purple one from…"

"No!" Lydia practically screeched, cutting off the rest of my suggestion and making a few wandering customers look our way. "No, no, no! Absolutely not! No re-wearing! That's blasphemous." Allison looked like she might have laughed if she weren't so tired of sitting around. I, on the other hand, groaned in annoyance.

"Lydia, I really don't care," I tried to reason, but she was adamant.

"No. Here, try this one on, and if that doesn't work we'll move to a different store." She held out another hanger, and I instantly recognized the sleek red fabric of the dress Peter had given me. I eyed the item apprehensively, but Lydia simply stood up, thrust the hanger into my hands and pushed me into the dressing room. "Go!" Reluctantly, I obeyed, if only to keep Lydia from crossing the line of physical abuse. I tried not to think about Peter as I changed into the dress, tried not to think about how it was red like his Alpha eyes that cropped up in my nightmares. I slipped into the outfit on autopilot, zipping up the back and then walking back outside.

"Okay," I sighed dejectedly, holding my hands out before they dropped limply to my sides. "Whatchya think?" Allison and Lydia both glanced over and stopped. Allison lowered her phone, a huge smile slowly growing over her face. Ever the opposite, Lydia immediately squealed, jumping up from the couch and dashing over to me.

"Oh my God! Why didn't we try this one first?!" she gushed. She scampered around me to get a panoramic view, the action reminding me of some sort of hyperactive vulture. "Come here." Lydia grabbed my hand, dragging me over to the mirror and then positioning me in front of it with her hands on my shoulders. Allison quickly joined us, and I took my first real look at the dress Peter had picked out for me.

How he had known my size was beyond me, and I wasn't sure I really wanted to know. But however he had managed it, the dress fit like a glove. It was strapless, just as Allison's and Lydia's were, and the skirt reached far enough down my thigh to look flirty at least. The fabric was dark red, not quite flat, but almost shimmering as I twisted and turned in the light. There was ruching on the bodice, making vertical folds over the bust and horizontal ones around the torso and waist. The skirt flared out from my hips, multiple layers of semi-sheer fabric making it look like a formalwear tutu. As much as I hated to admit it, the dress was gorgeous, and I did feel prettier in this dress than I had all day. Lydia fluffed the skirt, giggling like a schoolgirl.

"That's it. That's what you're wearing."

"I don't know," I mused, twisting back and forth in the mirror. I knew that it was perfect, but there was a large part of me that wanted to refuse it for the sole reason that Peter had chosen it. Allison looked at me in surprise, while Lydia looked downright horrified.

"Why not?" Allison asked, sounding almost concerned. "Sadie, you look fantastic."

"You look hot," Lydia emphasized. "And I'm the one buying the dress, so that's what you're wearing. That's final. Now, go get changed so we can move onto shoes." She shooed me back into the stall, and I could hear her and Allison chatting about shoes and accessory possibilities as I changed back into my normal clothes. When I reemerged with the handful of hangers, my red dress tucked in along with the various rejects, I discovered that Stiles had rejoined the group.

"Hey," he greeted with a grin. "So, uh, what are you getting?" Before I could reply, Lydia snatched the bouquet of party dresses out of my hands.

"You're not allowed to know," she snapped, tucking the pile under her arm this time instead of handing him the discards as she had all day. Stiles raised his eyebrows.

"Wh-Why?" he asked, glancing around between the three of us as if he was missing a piece of the puzzle. But even though Allison was smirking slightly, I was just as confused. "Sadie's not even my date." I opened my mouth to describe the dress, but Allison grabbed my wrist and Lydia instantly shot me one of her highest-degree glares.

"Uh…sorry," I offered instead. "Guess it's a surprise." Stiles rolled his eyes.

"Ugh. You suck."

"I'll bet you wish she did," Lydia commented promptly. Stiles made a choking sound and my jaw dropped as Allison was overcome with giggles. Lydia smiled brightly, sending me a wink that I prayed Stiles couldn't see. "I'll meet you in the shoe department," she dismissed, tossing her hair over her shoulder and marching over to the register to pay for my dress. Stiles and I gaped after her, too petrified to actually look at each other. Only Allison's poorly smothered giggles broke me out of my daze. I took a deep breath through my nose, trying to prepare myself to act as if the comment hadn't fazed me.

"Shoe department," I grumbled, grabbing Allison's arm tightly and dragging her away towards the opposite end of the store.

"Wait, what?" Stiles asked, dashing after us. "We're not done shopping?" The innocent comment made me smirk.

"Oh, Stiles. So young and naïve," I sighed, shaking my head at him. "We're no where near done. It's gonna be a while."

It was, indeed, a long time before we were cleared to leave the mall. Lydia refused to accept the idea that we could wear shoes that we already owned, or jewelry, or purses, or wraps, or even perfume for that matter. Stiles, whose opinion was no longer needed as Allison, Lydia and I were sticking together, trudged along behind us looking consistently grumpy. But as he wasn't quite ready to leave Lydia's company yet, he had no choice but to follow us from store to store, listening to our gossip and advice and girl talk. My sympathy got the better of me every now and then, and I'd step away from Allison and Lydia to talk to him for a bit, but Lydia would eventually drag me away, glaring at Stiles slightly. I didn't reprimand her though. I knew she was upset about having to go with him, not necessarily because she was actually going with him, but because she knew that something about him had made me feel like I wasn't good enough to go with him. That frustrated her, and I could see her taking out that frustration on him by ordering him around and trying her best to keep him away from me. Really, she was enacting the advice I'd gotten from Kate but was too weak to actually act one. Stop giving Stiles so much of your attention, and you'll catch his.

Hours later, we helped Lydia pack our bags into her car. Or rather, we all watched as Stiles did it for us. I'd already told Lydia that I was going to continue hanging out with Allison for a while, and that we were going out with her aunt to blow off some steam. We invited her to join us, but at the mention of shooting, Lydia had firmly declined. She was still extremely weirded out by the fact that Allison seemed to be a perfect marksman, and while she'd never seen me shoot, I knew it was something she didn't care to think about. So we all went our separate ways once more, Allison and I heading to her blue Mazda while Stiles stuck around to discuss the details of his date with Lydia. We had all silently agreed that was a conversation I did not need to hear.

When we arrived back at Allison's house, I helped her bring her purchases up to her room. There was a short show for Allison's family so they could see what she bought before Kate whisked us out of the house. This time we were "going to see a movie." That gave us a solid three-hour time block to get to the range and shoot out our nerves and frustrations. Well, I was pretty sure I was the only one who was shooting out of nerves and frustrations. Kate and Allison would be shooting for constructive practice, to actually get better, on top of the fact that Kate clearly just enjoyed shooting things like I enjoyed painting.

This time, I didn't stick around in the archery section of the deserted range. Instead, I headed straight over to firearms, letting Kate and Allison have their short family chat about what Allison could do better and why she had to stay on her game. I didn't even wait for Kate before I unzipped the duffle bag and started loading the first gun I could get my hands on. I walked over to the booth, putting on the headset and glasses and taking a deep breath while I aimed down the lane. I spent a few minutes adjusting my own body calibrations, until I was shooting center consistently enough. But even after nearly four whole rounds, I was still feeling slightly depressed and jittery. I turned back to the bag to try out a different gun, jumping slightly when I noticed that Kate had joined me.

"Well if your boy was that target, I think you'd probably have solved all of your problems by now," Kate chucked. I replied with a small smile and a shrug, disarming the gun and tossing it back into the bag before plopping down onto the bench next to her.

"Wish it was that simple," I grumbled, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning my head back on the wall. Kate watched me for a few seconds before she mirrored my actions.

"You know, I think it's good you're not going with him," she reminded me. "Go have fun without him! Show him you don't need him around to have a good time."

"Easier said than done," I replied gloomily. "I don't even know who I'm going with."

"Go by yourself," she suggested. "You don't need some guy to hang onto to have a nice night. I mean, unless you can snag a hottie to make Stiles jealous."

"Nah," I chuckled, shaking my head. "I don't think that's the way his brain works."

"Then who cares?" she replied with a smile. "You're a big girl. You're pretty, you're funny, you're smart. Girls like us don't need a man to take care of them." I raised my eyebrows slightly, smirking and nodding in agreement. "You know," she commented after a few seconds. "You remind me a lot of me at your age."

"Really?" I asked, my head lolling to the side to look at her. I knew Allison had said that we were similar, that Kate and I had the same sense of humor and got along great, but hearing her actually say it was different. Kate seemed to have everything in her life under control, and hearing that someone so capable and kick ass thought the same of me seemed like a huge compliment.

"I wasn't always so old and crazy," she laughed, sensing my surprise. "I was just like you when I was in high school. Smart girl, too smart to be completely innocent." She winked and I giggled slightly. "My family was super weird, and for a while…I was a little self conscious about it. You know, back when I thought there was such a thing as 'normal' and that I didn't fit the bill. But I got over it. And when I did, you know, I was a lot better off. I can do a lot of things better than most people, and just because they're not things that everyone else does doesn't mean they're not awesome." I nodded in understanding. It was obvious to me that Kate was talking about the confidence she'd gained from hunting, though she didn't know I knew that. As far as Kate was concerned, we were just having a conversation about egos and my insecurities.

"And then you achieved true happiness?" I joked. Kate laughed, shaking her head.

"Actually, then I achieved cockiness," she replied. "I went through a sort of rebellious stage."

"Stage?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow. Kate laughed heartily, throwing her head back for a few seconds before she composed herself.

"Okay, so I'm still not exactly obedient, but it's the right kind of rebellious," she defended. "Back then I was just doing it for the hell of it. Fighting with my dad, ignoring all of his advice, his rules." She paused, staring down the lane as if she were watching her earlier self on a screen before her eyes. "For a long time I forgot that just because being different isn't always bad doesn't mean it's always good. I started hanging out with the wrong people, dating guys my dad didn't approve of."

"Convicted felons?" I offered with a smirk. Kate chuckled lightly.

"Not exactly. But there was this one guy in particular that I got kinda hung up on. He and my dad hated each other, but I guess we just didn't really care. I figured it was my life and if I trusted him then my dad would just have to get used to it… And I did. I did trust him, despite everything that my dad said. I just kept saying he was different, and he didn't want to hurt me… Until he did."

"What happened?" I asked tentatively. Kate sighed.

"He lost one his friends, some hunting accident in the woods," she dismissed. "Put him really on edge. And when I tried to comfort him he just started screaming at me, completely flipped out and nearly killed me." There was a long morose silence, something I was definitely not used to experiencing around Kate.

"Sounds like it was his time of the month," I joked before I could stop myself. Kate looked up, considering me for a moment before nodding.

"Yeah, you could say that," she agreed slowly. She opened her mouth once or twice before shutting it firmly. "Anyway, I wasn't stupid. After that I realized my dad was right and I cleaned up my act. No hanging out with the wrong crowd, you know?" She paused, looking me over with a slight smile. "I know it's not really the same thing with you guys but… Getting hung up on that guy was a really bad decision. And after how it ended, I was never the same. I just don't want to see you make my mistakes."

I nodded again, appreciating the concern. But I wasn't going to make Kate's mistakes. As far as I was concerned, her only error had been letting her boyfriend's attack make her prejudice against all werewolves. From the sounds of it, he'd lost a pack member and then lost control, and then Kate had lost any faith she'd ever had in shifters. But I was still planning on siding with Scott. If I could achieve Kate's confidence without losing my outlook on people, I figured I'd be in a pretty good place.

"Wow," Kate sighed, smiling widely once more and shaking her head. "That was entirely too much sentimental crap. Let's shoot something, huh?" She grabbed two new guns from the bag, loading them easily with practiced hands and leading the way over to the lanes. She stepped up first, aiming the gun at her target and keeping a steady stance. She glared at the end of the lane before emptying the entire magazine into the center of the target. The entire time she seemed to emit this quiet rage, like the target was really the embodiment of everything that had ever hurt her in her life. When the room was quiet once more, she lowered the gun, grinning dangerously at the target and looking supremely satisfied. "Okay," she sighed, stepping to the side. "Your turn." I nodded once with determination, moving into place and raising the gun to point steadily down the range. Kate rested her hands on my shoulders. "Okay, now this time I don't want you to look at the target like a target. Picture it as the thing that's making you upset."

"I don't want to shoot Stiles or Lydia," I argued. Kate nearly chuckled behind me, leaning just a little closer to my ear.

"And I don't think it's really Stiles or Lydia that's bothering you," she whispered.

I thought about that for a moment. Lydia couldn't help the way she was. It was just who she was as a person, and the fact that everyone liked her wasn't something that she had control over. She hadn't done anything to hurt me. In fact, Lydia was consistently being a good friend, wanting me to take my crush to the dance even though she didn't like him, agreeing to take him for me to save me the pain, and trying to make sure I enjoyed myself regardless. And Stiles... Well, I'd never blamed him for his crush on Lydia. He wasn't required to like me back, even after everything we'd gone through, and he'd known Lydia for years. His crush on Lydia was honest and understandable, and the extent and legitimacy of it was something that just made me like him more. The only problem I had was that I was jealous. That wasn't something that was Stiles or Lydia's faults. That was me. I was making myself upset because I was dwelling on how much better I thought Lydia was. I moped around feeling like I wasn't good enough because the one boy I wanted didn't want me. But there were more important things happening around town than Stiles having a crush on Lydia. Peter was killing people and Derek was being held hostage. Jackson was biting at the bit to become a werewolf, and the Argents thought that he already was one. Scott's condition was keeping him from being happy with Allison, and I was having an identity crisis because Stiles didn't want to take me to a dance?

I narrowed my eyes at the target, just as Kate had done a minute before. Then I squeezed the trigger. Each bang felt like I was shooting my insecurities to pieces. Terrible things were happening in town, and I was one of the few people who knew about it. Who cared if Lydia was still the popular girl who caught Stiles's attention? She couldn't deal with the important things happening. And I could. Whether I had Stiles or not, whether I had a date or not, even if I didn't have a pretty dress or a car or a dad. I was one of the only people in town with a shot of doing something to save people. And I could.

The room subsided into silence once more as the last bullet ripped into the center of the target. Kate let out a low whistle, admiring the holes in the bullseye.

"I would hate to be the boy who crossed you," she joked, nudging me shoulder as I lowered the gun.

I laughed. And it wasn't a forced laugh, or a feeble one. I didn't feel like I had to in order to be polite, or because I knew I should. It was a loud, free laugh, one of my first in what felt like weeks. The adrenaline of shooting the gun, the pride of hitting the center, the confidence of shooting my insecurities out of the air. I felt wonderful. I felt powerful. I could understand why Kate was a gun girl, why she enjoyed hunting so much. I wondered if that was the rush she felt every time. She'd jogged back to her bag, returning with another sleek gun for me to try my hand at.

"Shoot it all out," she advised, grinning as she handed me the loaded firearm. "You've got to be ready for tomorrow." I turned back to the target, mirroring her smirk as I went at it once more. I wasn't quite sure what she'd meant by the comment, but I knew she was right. I had to get my nerves out before I could face the prospect of Stiles showing up at our house with flowers for Lydia, escorting her to his Jeep and asking her to dance. I needed to keep myself from getting upset, getting distracted. Because this wasn't just about me not going to the dance with my crush. Peter had basically told me that he was going to be at the party to target people. Stiles could keep an eye on Lydia, keep her safe. And as much as I hated Jackson, I knew he'd finally caved and agreed to do the same for Allison. The rest of it was up to Scott and me.

I had to be ready for the winter formal, because I knew that things were about to get out of control.

* * *

**A/N: Wooh! WOOH! It's probably terrible that I'm this excited about how the story's going. It's going placing. We are rapidly approaching the climax of the season, and I couldn't be more excited. Fun facts about this chapter? The fortune cookie comment about Lydia's favorite quote is true. It's my favorite quote that I found in a cookie several years ago, and I literally freaked out when Lydia used it on the show. Also, I just really love Peter and Kate. I'm gonna be so upset when I have to stop writing them. Or do I...? *maniacal laughter***

**Thank you and welcome to all new readers, favoriters, followers and reviewers. You guys keep me going. Thank you to xxxxninaxxxx, Lucy Greenhill, becca1130, ovenfreshh, ellisbellisballs, br, ScornedxRose, LynZann, prettyargents, casper6six6, ElithaAndWest, MS. QUEEN21, SammieLuvsFood, LilMissSunshine14, A Cool Guest, Lojo2014o (You just compared this story to Harry Potter and I think I might cry thank), Isaac fan, TameTheGhosts, OliviaMisfit, SimplyKelly, LifeToDeath, lilyllama, GetsueiNoYume, Alexstarlight18, shakesparrow, xALFiex, kaljara, the outsider19, mfmxxx, Kelly1432, kayheshh, and LionHeartMisfit! Phew! I figured you guys would be upset about that.**

**Also, thank you for more things! As you might have noticed, this story now as a thumbnail, courtesy of myself. And there's also a link to a short FAN VIDEO on my profile by jayrosew. But beware. I think the video might be more heartbreaking than the actual story. Thank you so much! Also, lostinwonderland314, who has continued to make kickass Polyvore outfits, and the links to those are on my profile.**

**Also, for those of you who are interested, there's a link to Sadie's dress on my profile too!**

**So, I've only got a few more days before I head to school, and that's when updates are gonna get really difficult. There's only a couple more chapters I think, though, so I'll try and finish this installment before I get distracted by schoolwork. Thank you again for all your support and I really hope you enjoyed the chapter. Let me know!**

**-Brittney**


	29. Chapter 29

The next morning I woke up to the universe's most effective alarm clock—Miss Lydia Martin on event day. It started with the blast of my stereo, jolting me awake and causing me to flail around my blankets in the dark as if I'd been woken by gunshots. Then she tore open my canopy drawings and turned on the lights, making me wince and bury my head into my pillow. As soon as she saw that it was aiding my attempt to stay in bed, Lydia pounced, ripping the pillow out from underneath my head and pulling the covers back. She screeched something about "up" and "school" and "formal," but my half-asleep brain managed to do a fairly good job of tuning her out. She stormed over to my closet, throwing around individual pieces and talking about something to do with the color wheel so quickly that if I'd been any more asleep I would have been convinced she was speaking in tongues.

By the time Lydia had pushed me to the bathroom and back again, my brain was awake and I could finally comprehend the world around me. Judging by the outfit Lydia had laid out for me—black tights, black ankle boots, high-waisted denim shorts, a white camisole and a green blazer—her color wheel speech had been about complimentary colors, wearing green because it was the opposite of red, the color of my dress. I wasn't quite sure why this was important, but decided that it was better to just go along with it, especially on formal day. I'd vowed to go through the school day quietly, having a calm, uneventful morning so I would have plenty of energy for whatever was going to happen that night. But as I probably should have expected, that plan was almost immediately trashed when I found Stiles and Scott waiting for me at my locker.

"Tada!" Stiles cheered, pushing Scott forward with a hand on each of his shoulders. I raised an eyebrow, eying the pained look on Scott's face and the bright blue gift bow that had been stuck to his shirt.

"Wow," I replied skeptically, continuing about my business to get my books from my lockers. "A very stressed out teenage werewolf. Just what I always wanted."

"Thanks," Scott grumbled, and I sent him an apologetic smile around my locker door.

"Sorry, Scott."

"Come on," Stiles sighed in frustration. "He's my apology gift."

"Apology gift?" I repeated. "Should I be worried? What'd you do this time to warrant an apology?"

"Well, I'm going to the dance with Lydia," Stiles elaborated. "So I found you a new date." I looked over at Scott once more, who seemed equally unimpressed by Stiles's efforts.

"So you got me a lovesick, frantic werewolf who isn't even allowed to go to the dance?" I asked. "I gotta say Stiles, you're kinda low-balling it here."

"Come on, Sadie," he grumbled. "I'm gonna feel terrible if you have to go by yourself."

"Well don't worry about it," I countered, slamming my locker shut. "I'm asking someone else."

"What?" he asked, so quickly it didn't even sound like a word. "Who?"

"Uh, I'm gonna talk to Isaac Lahey in chem," I informed him. "See if he wants to go with me."

"Well, now you don't have to, because now you have Scott!" He shook his friend by the shoulders once more, wide smile on his face.

"It's not like I don't want Isaac to take me," I defended. Stiles sounded like he was proud of himself for saving me from terrible fate, but I really did like Isaac. He deserved to have a nice time too. Stiles, however, rolled his eyes.

"Sadie, we all know you really want to go with Scott, so please just say yes." That made me pause as well. I raised my eyebrows, looking from the slightly exasperated Stiles to the extremely exasperated Scott. The werewolf shook his head slightly, letting me know that it was better if I just didn't ask.

"Please, Sadie?" he asked. "I kind of also need a ride..." I groaned, leaning my head against my locker.

"Fine, fine," I caved. "Whatever. I'll be your illegal date to the formal."

"Thank you," Scott sang quietly with a small smile, pulling the bow off his chest. Stiles, on the other hand, was practically beaming.

"Alright!" he cheered, wrapping an arm around each of us and steering us towards English. "Look at this! I get to go to formal with Lydia, Jackson's keeping an eye on Allison, and you two crazy kids get to go together! This is great!"

"Stiles," I sighed with irritation.

"Yeah?"

"Stop talking," Scott finished for me. Stiles relented, pulling his arms back and letting us walk to class in silence.

Obviously, as it was Stiles, the silence didn't last for long. All too soon he was back to talking about the formal. What way was best for Scott to sneak into the school, where I should park my car so no one saw Scott come in, what time he was picking up Lydia so I knew to pick up Scott later than that so Lydia was never alone, what we could do to get Scott a suit… It went on and on. I felt bad for Scott, who had to spend much more time dealing with Stiles's chatter than I did. That sympathy waned though when I realized that Stiles wasn't the only person who couldn't stop talking about the dance.

Danny questioned Jackson about his plans with Allison all throughout math. I tried to look like I wasn't listening, because I didn't want Jackson to have the satisfaction of knowing I was still interested in anything he did, but I wanted to make sure he at least wasn't going to screw up my friend's night. Then in my next class, since I'd made it look like I wasn't listening in math, Danny proceeded to repeat all the information about the date he'd set up with his boyfriend. I was happy for him, I really was. I was just also desperate to escape the gossip. But that hadn't deterred Danny from scolding me about changing my date with Stiles. He also seemed none too pleased about my attempt to be kind, but he tried to hide it with sympathy. Apparently there was some unwritten rule somewhere that my best gay friend was supposed to take me if my date fell through, but since Danny had a boyfriend he told me I was basically shit out of luck. That had actually made me laugh. I assured him that I was setting up other plans, but before I had to go into detail the bell rang, and I rushed off to chemistry.

However, rushing to chemistry wasn't one of the best decisions I'd ever made. Being early to chemistry meant spending more time with Lydia, and as much as I loved her, I'd been right when I'd thought she'd try and weasel her way out of the arrangement with Stiles. She came up with suggestion after suggestion as to how she could back out of the date without hurting his feelings. I'd tried to remain calm as I explained to her that she couldn't do that, but eventually I snapped.

"Lydia!" I hissed. "I swear to God, if you say one more word about not taking Stiles to formal, I will pick up my things and move."

"Sorry," she grumbled, clasping her hands and leaning forward on the table. She managed to keep quiet for only a few seconds before her resolve broke. "If I pretended that I had food poisoning…"

"That's it," I huffed, swinging my bag onto my shoulder and scooping my books up.

"Sadie! Wait!" Lydia whined, but I ignored her. Instead, I stalked to the back of the classroom, looking around for an empty seat. Finally, I noticed a familiar set of blonde curls, and carefully walked over to the table.

"Hey, Isaac," I greeted. "Do you mind if I sit here?" Isaac's head snapped up so quickly I was surprised his head was still on his shoulders. His blue eyes were wide as he stared fearfully up at me, glancing to the irate Lydia I had abandoned before panning over the rest of the seats in the classroom.

"Uh y-yeah," he replied. "I mean, no. That…fine…" He scrambled to push his books out of the way, clearing the table so I could take the seat next to him. I smiled gratefully, collapsing onto the stool and opening my books in front of me. Isaac straightened out his own belongings, his fingers trembling slightly. I looked over at him in concern.

"So…how are you?" Isaac looked up rapidly, eyebrows raised.

"Um…good. Fine. H-How are you?"

"Tired," I admitted glancing around at all of the students filing into their seats. "Kinda wish everyone would stop talking about the winter formal, honestly."

"Yeah, same," Isaac agreed quietly. He drummed his pen against the paper before looking over to me once more. "You… You're going with Stiles Stilinski right?"

"Well I was," I informed him, hardly sparing a thought as to why he would know who I was going with. "Now he's going with Lydia." Isaac's eyebrows shot up towards his hairline in surprise, making me smile. "Then I was going by myself, and now apparently I'm going with Scott."

"McCall?" Isaac asked. "I thought he wasn't allowed to go to the dance?"

"Mm," I hummed, nodding sagely. "My problem exactly." The response coaxed a small smile out of the boy, and I grinned before turning to date my notes for the day. "What about you? Are you going with anyone?"

"Oh, no," he replied immediately. "No, I… I don't think I'm going."

"What?" I asked, stopping all pretenses of work. "Why not?" Isaac attempted to smile reassuringly, but the action was so feeble I actually felt worse.

"I'm not… I-I don't really enjoy d-dancing," he offered with a slight shrug. I tilted my head, watching him sympathetically.

"Okay, well you don't actually have to dance," I reasoned. "Just come and have some food, sit around for a while and have fun with your friends."

"I… I don't…" he muttered. "I don't know that many people going."

"Oh." I stared at him for a few seconds, but Isaac wouldn't meet my eye. He kept his head ducked down, as if admitting that his friends weren't going to the dance was embarrassing for him. Or maybe it was that he didn't have many friends to know at the dance anyway. "Well, I'm gonna be there," I offered brightly. "You could always come hang out with me."

"W-Wha-? Uh, n-no, I mean I wouldn't want t-to interrupt you or…"

"Isaac, my date's not even supposed to be at the dance," I countered with a light laugh. "Listen, I'm going to force you or anything, but I really hope you'll go. I'd love to see you there." Isaac stared at me for a moment, a small, shy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Then after a few seconds, his face sporting a light flush, he ducked his head back to reading his textbooks.

"I'll think about it," he promised, and I beamed.

Isaac and I spent the rest of the period in polite silence, getting our work done and enjoying the company. At least I knew I was. Isaac was sweet, and even though we had spoken about the dance, it wasn't in an annoying or irritating way like it'd been with Stiles or Lydia. Isaac still seemed twitchy and nervous, maybe even more so than usual. Then again, it was probably the most time I'd spent with him yet, which meant he wasn't used to my company.

When the period ended, I reluctant left Isaac with a reminder of his promise to think about coming and a plea that I really hoped to find him there. Then I trudged to the lunchroom like a criminal condemned to the gallows. Lunch meant I had two choices. I could sit with Stiles and Scott, and have Stiles chat about his date with Lydia and all the things Scott and I were supposed to do to have fun on our not-date. Or I could sit with Lydia and Allison, who would continue to beg me to reconsider my decision to not go with Stiles, offer me hundreds of ways to steal him back from Lydia, and criticize my thought process over all. Or maybe I had a third option…

When I got off the lunch line, I glanced between my two usual options. Then I took a deep breath, and walked in the opposite direction. Change was weird, but sometimes it was necessary, and I couldn't spend lunch in my usual company and still keep my head clear for that night. Instead, I took a seat at an empty table in the corner of the cafeteria. It probably looked a tad strange, me sitting by myself at lunch, but I was determined to escape the excited chatter. So I pulled out my library book, spread it open on the table in front of me, and settled into my lunch in silence. I was able to enjoy reading quietly for about four minutes before I was interrupted.

"Uh…can I help you?" a deep voice asked. I quickly looked up, noticing a large, dark-skinned boy standing at the end of the table. He was holding his lunch tray tightly and staring at me in utter confusion, almost reproachful.

"Um, no?" I replied quizzically. "I'm fine."

"Then…why are you sitting at my table?" I glanced around at all of the empty chairs before looking back to him.

"Oh, uh…sorry," I apologized, moving to close my book and collect my things. "I didn't realize it was taken. I can just move."

"It's fine," he said quickly. "I'm just…not used to visitors."

"Oh," I replied lamely, letting my hands fall back to the table. I watched awkwardly as he settled into a seat on the other side of the table, not across from me but several chairs to my right. "Well, I'm Sadie. Sadie Bennet."

"Yeah, I know," he replied, barely glancing up at me as he began to eat his meal. "You're like Lydia Martin's second in command or something."

"Well I don't know what I'm commanding," I dismissed with a small, confused smile. "But she's my best friend, yeah." I waited for a few seconds for a response, but there was none. The boy just continued to eat his food, arms on the table as he stared at the empty chair across from him. "And you are?" I prompted. He looked at me for merely a second before turning back to the table.

"Boyd," he replied shortly. I smiled.

"Boyd," I repeated. "That's a cool first name."

"It's not," he grumbled. "It's my last name."

"Oh," I said once more, at a complete loss for what else to say. When he didn't go on, I tried again. "Well, what's your first name then?" Boyd didn't answer. Instead, he looked up at me with raised eyebrows, silently asking, _"You really think I'm just gonna tell you?" _I smirked slightly. "Come on," I tried. "It can't be that bad." Boyd reinforced his pointed look, assuring me that it _was_ in fact that bad. "Look, I'll stick with Boyd, but I'd really like to know your first name. And I know I may look innocent and unassuming, but I promise I can get annoying pretty quickly." Boyd glared down at the table for a moment before relenting.

"It's Vernon," he grumbled. I wrinkled my nose.

"You're right. You should probably stick with your last name." Instead of getting upset, Boyd looked up and considered me placidly. After a few seconds of silence, I asked, "What?"

"Nothing," he dismissed. "It's just…you know, usually people lie and are all like, 'Oh that's not so bad' or 'you should use your first name. I like it.'" I shrugged, taking a sip from my water bottle.

"I like Boyd better. And it's your decision anyway." Once again, Boyd decided not to answer. He simply nodded tersely, then looked down at his meal. Taking that as my cue, I turned back to my book, fully intending to continue reading and leave the boy in peace. Only I couldn't. The silence hung heavily over the table, preventing my eyes from being able to focus and comprehend the words on the page. I glanced back at my very stoic company. "So…" I dragged out, making Boyd look up with a mixture of annoyance, exasperation and genuine curiosity. "How are you?" He sighed, shaking his head slightly.

"Don't feel obligated to talk to me," he offered. I furrowed my brows.

"What?"

"Just because you're sitting here," he elaborated, a large hand gesturing around at his reserved table. "You don't have to talk to me." It could have come off as rude, but it didn't. Instead, Boyd sounded profoundly resigned, almost nervous. My lips tugged up into a small smirk.

"And you don't have to let me sit here," I countered. The large boy considered me for several seconds before nodding grudgingly.

"I'm fine. And how are you?" he asked with sardonic politeness. I smiled, nodding my appreciation that he was willing to play along at least for the moment.

"Fine," I responded shortly. This time, I turned back to my book full of determination. Boyd clearly wasn't a talker, and I wasn't going to push his generosity by forcing him into a conversation with me. I made it about eight sentences before he let out a huge sigh of complete defeat.

"Then why aren't you sitting with your friends?" he asked, sounding as if he'd accepted that he was just going to have to talk to me with extreme resignation. I looked up, slightly taken aback. Boyd jutted his chin out toward Lydia's table, where she was sitting with Allison. "If everything was fine, you wouldn't be avoiding them." I let out a long breath that made my cheeks puff out.

"They just want to talk to me about the winter formal," I explained. "And I don't want to talk about the winter formal." Boyd raised his eyebrows a fraction of an inch.

"Really? Think someone like you would be excited to go."

"Are you?" I shot, narrowing my eyes at him. He shrugged, looking back to his chicken.

"I'm not going."

"Lucky," I grumbled. Boyd glared at me and I instantly regretted the phrase. There was nothing more frustrating than someone who had it better than you telling you that you were the lucky one, making it seem like they couldn't appreciate all the things they had. Judging by the fact that Boyd sat alone at lunch and wasn't going to formal, while I usually sat with my groups of friends and was bouncing between dates like a tennis ball, that's exactly what he thought I was doing. "Sorry," I amended with a sigh. "Lydia's just been…annoyed with some of the choices I've been making, and I'm too tired to fight her on it. So I'm avoiding confrontation while I can."

"And you don't have anyone else to sit with?" Boyd asked, not necessarily unkindly.

"Sometimes I sit with Scott McCall and Stiles Stilinski," I offered. "But I'm avoiding his mindless and frankly emotionally-grating chatter." To my surprise, Boyd let out a snort, taking a large bite out of his chicken strip.

"If you're avoiding Stilinski, you're definitely welcome here." I raised an eyebrow, and if I didn't know better I would have described Boyd's expression as a wry smirk.

"What have you got against Stiles?" I asked, half wary, half amused. Boyd rolled his eyes at the thought, glancing over at Stiles with a level of annoyance that rivaled Lydia.

"We've got a few classes together. He thinks we're friends," he explained. "We're not."

"He's probably just trying to be nice," I offered, and Boyd shook his head slightly.

"Oh, he's trying," he agreed. "He's just annoying as shit." I frowned slightly, looking over to Stiles and Scott's table again. Stiles was perched on the edge of his seat with his knees bouncing wildly, hands waving around in the air as he spoke emphatically about something I couldn't hear. Scott sat across from him, arms folded on the table as he listened to his friend with a mixture of amusement, annoyance and exasperation. He commented on something once or twice, and Stiles put his hands on his head in what looked like desperation. Then his head fell onto the table with a dull thunk, which I couldn't decide if I was imagining or actually hearing. Scott smiled, reaching over to pat his friend on the arm. I grinned slightly.

"I wouldn't say that," I said quietly, watching Stiles lift his head and rest his chin on the table as he spoke to Scott once more.

"Oh," Boyd commented from behind me. "It's that kind of avoiding."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked turning back to my company, spinning around quickly enough to make my hair fly out. Boyd was watching me with almost no emotion, just knowingly.

"You like him," he commented flatly. I opened and closed my mouth once or twice. "You're not subtle," he added when it looked like I was about to object. "Besides, it's not like I've got anyone to tell. And if you manage to like him, maybe there's hope for me too."

"I'm sure there is," I replied to the jab. "What's your type?"

"Blonde," he deadpanned, half joking. I smirked, knowing I shouldn't say any more on the matter.

"I'll keep my eyes open," I assured him, turning back to my meal.

Boyd and I chatted lightly for the rest of the lunch period, avoiding any and all deep topics. I learned that Boyd was part of ROTC, and that when he wasn't taking care of his younger siblings, he worked at an ice rink in town. I told him about living with Lydia, my job at the library, and a little bit about my painting. I wasn't sure if we were ever going to speak again, what with my crazy, hectic, werewolf-for-a-friend life and Boyd's reservedness, but I thought it was safe to say we both enjoyed the pointless conversation. Boyd had even grinned once or twice, something I considered to be a pretty huge accomplishment. When the bell rang, I made a mental note to myself to try and keep an eye out for him around school, even if it was just to wave. Boyd seemed like a pretty decent guy, if slightly stoic, and he probably deserved more friends than he had.

I was glad that I had accidetally chosen to sit with Boyd for lunch. If I had tried to read my book, my mind would have been consistently wandering, thinking back to Stiles, Lydia's critiques, my nightmares, and then back to Stiles. But Boyd had managed to keep my mind off my problems for a while, and after the first normal conversation I'd had in what felt like a long time, I was ready to face my friends once more.

Strangely enough though, I didn't have to put that much effort into avoiding anyone. Stiles seemed to have completely dropped talking to me about our respective formal dates, or actually talking to me at all. I wasn't sure if that was because Scott had urged him to back off or not, but judging by the small smiles I received from Scott for the rest of the day, I could only assume that was what had happened. There wasn't really a better explanation as far as I could see.

As for Lydia, whatever Allison had said to her during lunch had worked. It seemed that now that the day was half over, both girls had given up trying to make me change my mind about my arrangements for formal. I'd gently informed Allison that if she was still okay with it, I would be taking Scott as friends, mostly because he didn't have a car. She assured me half-heartedly that it was fine, and she'd rather he go with me than someone else. I had a feeling that really meant that she'd rather he come to the dance with me than not come at all. Even if he wasn't actually her date, she'd get to see him all cleaned up, wow him with her dress, and maybe get a chance to talk to him again.

After being assured that the three of us would, in fact, be shuffling dates, Lydia had gone into full blown planning mode. Getting herself in the mindset for the winter formal eight hours before the dance actually started seemed a little overkill to me, but Lydia was adamant that no time was too early. She'd really been in the mindset for weeks, and now was the time to start pulling everything together. She rambled on and on about the plans we'd made, rehashing every detail from the steps of preparation, to the color of our nails, to the shades of makeup we would be wearing, to the times allotted for every step along the way. The chatter lasted incessantly through the rest of the day, and when the bell rang, Lydia and I reluctantly left Allison behind. Lydia assured her that she'd be calling every half hour to make sure she was on schedule, and even more frequently towards the time Jackson was supposed to pick her up. Allison merely smiled and shook her head, knowing it was pointless to try and reason with her when she was in the zone. So Lydia shooed me into the passenger seat of her car and sped out of the parking lot, her party playlist blaring on the stereo in an attempt to get us excited. When we got home, the battle began.

I had thought that with so many hours between our arrival at the house and the time of the dance, I would have been able to kill a little time on the computer. As I probably should have expected, Lydia had other plans. She barely let me pause long enough to drop my books in my room before she was ushering me down the hall to the bathroom to take another shower. But this was not just any shower. No, Lydia gave me a very long list of steps and instructions on what exactly I was supposed to do in the shower and in what order. She pulled out at least five different kinds of soap and serums, different textured pumice stones, loofas, and I was honestly expecting her to pull out a laminated list of instructions for me to take in the shower with me so I didn't forget anything. But apparently that was where she drew the line. She hurried me along, promising that she'd be back for me when I was done, and if I thought I was done before she got back, I'd done something wrong.

Knowing it would do no good to argue with her, I got in the shower and followed her instructions. I was fairly certain I'd never spent more time in a shower in my life. By the time I stepped out well over an hour later, I felt like a completely different person. Lydia ushered me out of the room in my towel, shoving me towards my room where she'd taken the liberty of laying out my underwear and a black dressing robe I had yet to use. I smiled in exasperation when I saw them waiting there. Sometimes I wondered if Lydia was supposed to be my best friend or another mother.

I changed into the clothes while Lydia took control of the bathroom, opting to blow dry my hair in front of the mirror in my room while I waited. Then, as per my instructions on the slightly aggressive sticky note Lydia had left me, I headed downstairs to have some dinner. Miss Eleanor put together a plate for me, and I settled down in front of the television with my mom to eat. Lydia had to have eaten while I was in the shower, and I'd spent ages in there, so I figured I'd probably have time to finish Star Trek with my mother. But apparently, on event days Lydia Martin gained the ability to bend time. I was only just finishing my food when Lydia burst into the living room, ends of her pink dressing gown and bits of her red hair flying in all directions.

"What are you doing?!" she screeched. I exchanged a nervous look with my mother, but she only seemed to be highly amused.

"Um, eating dinner and enjoying Chris Pine's face?" It seemed Lydia was currently too high strung to form the words to respond to that. She let out a squeal of frustration and rage that actually made me flinch and drop my fork onto the now-empty plate. She stormed over to me, gripping my arm hard, only light enough to make sure it wouldn't bruise. I winced and relented, letting her drag me back to her room, hissing incoherently under her breath about my inconsideration. Apparently, taking time to digest my food was considered rude on the night of a big occasion.

First came nails. Now, I was sure that the normal laws of the universe would at least apply here. Painting nails always meant an agonizing hour where you weren't allowed to touch anything, even after you thought your nails were dry. That meant that I'd be able to put on some music and just take a few deep breaths. I thought wrong. Lydia had literally planned everything down to the millisecond, so not a moment was wasted. She painted my nails first, a classic and neutral French manicure that wouldn't clash with my red and black outfit. And then, just when I thought I was home free, she shoved me into her desk chair, which she had wheeled in front of the large mirror of her vanity.

"Uh uh," she scolded, brandishing a finger at me, but leering like a cat about to pounce on a goldfish. "Hair." She ignored my groan, walking over to her stereo. Well, at least I'd been right about the music.

Even with her exceptional beauty skills, Lydia took her time on my hair. She brushed it, put a smoothing serum in it, combed that through, blow dried it, brushed it again, put some sort of mousse in it, gently blow dried that, straightened it, curled it, until I just completely lost any shred of interest as to what was actually happening on my head. I closed my eyes, breathing through my nose and listening to the music while Lydia tugged at my scalp, eventually progressing forward to twisting and pulling at my hair and shoving pins into my scalp to hold her work in place. Then she attempted to murder me in cold blood by using what must have been an entire can of hairspray on my hair, leaving me coughing for several seconds as the cloud around my head tried to smother me. Lydia watched on with a slightly crazed glint in her eye as I inspected my hair in the mirror. I poked at one of the curls hanging next to my face, surprised when it bounced instead of being unyielding like a rock. Lydia smacked my hand away, grumbling something about all of her hard work.

Needless to say, Lydia had spent enough time on my hair that by the time she was done, my nails we completely dry. We swapped places, Lydia choosing a shimmering pale pink nail polish a few shades lighter than her dress for me to put on her nails. As a testament to our friendship and a sign of extreme faith, she even let me do her hair while her nails dried. She ordered me around step by step obviously, and the pressure of the situation made me feel as if this was really Lydia administering a final exam to test how much I'd learned. But judging by the pleased smile and the warm hug I'd received when I was done, I'd passed with flying colors.

I hadn't really realized how much we'd grown as friends since I moved to Beacon Hills. I knew Lydia was my best friend, practically my sister, and I knew that we were close. But standing by her side while we put on makeup for the dance, watching how we moved almost perfectly in sync, finishing each step at almost the exact same time, still made me smile.

And for that moment I felt properly excited about the winter formal, the way a normal teenage girl probably should feel. It was an excuse to get dressed up and have fun with my friends. Allison and Lydia would sooner abandon their dates than me, and I knew that Scott and Stiles wouldn't leave me either, no matter how wrapped up in their love lives they were. Sure, we had to be on high alert, but I'd already slipped my taser into the small black purse I'd be taking to the dance. It wasn't fool proof, but we were as ready as we were going to be. I knew that I was lucky to have the friends that I did, that the situation resulting from my father's death could have been a lot worse. I was grateful to have my little pack, and as dangerous as things could sometimes be, I knew we'd protect each other.

Lydia and I finally changed into our dresses once what Lydia called our "war paint" was complete. She looked stunning as usual, the red in her hair working with the pale pink of her dress beautifully, offset by the black ribbon under her bust, black necklace around her neck and large black ornament she was currently fixing in her hair. I still felt nervous standing next to her, but this time around, Lydia caught my look in the mirror.

"God, you look fantastic, Sadie," she sighed with a grin, patting the top of her hair when she was sure her headpiece was secure. She turned around, crossing her arms as she looked me up and down.

"So do you," I replied. "Though you're probably tired of hearing it."

"Not really," she giggled, reaching for my hand and pulling me towards her dresser. "But I think you could stand to hear it a little more." I smiled as she reached up to attach a simple black necklace around my neck, the expression looking drastic because of the shocking red lipstick I wore so rarely. "Because I think you look gorgeous." She spun me around when she was done, pulling me into a tight hug. I squeezed back, infinitely glad to have Lydia Martin in my life. After about a minute, we both pulled back. "Okay!" she cheered. "So, now we have a little bit of time to just get ourselves in the mind set. I've prepared a playlist specifically for…"

But whatever the playlist was for, she didn't get a chance to say. Instead, the sentence was cut off by the sound of the doorbell ringing downstairs. Lydia and I both froze, turning to look at each other with wide eyes. Lydia scrambled over to the stereo, quickly ending the song that was playing so we could hear what was going on downstairs. The door opened and closed, there was Lydia's mother's polite voice, and a nervous male that I could recognize instantly despite the distance.

"Girls!" Miss Eleanor called. "Stiles is here!" Lydia actually took a moment to look supremely outraged.

"He's early!" she hissed. "This is going to ruin the entire schedule! Why is he early?"

"He's just anxious," I assured her, smoothing out the skirt on my dress. "He probably started getting ready as soon as he got home, and then sat around trying not wrinkle his suit for a few hours before he got too twitchy to stay at home." Lydia held my gaze for a moment, caught between a pang of sympathy for me and her growing annoyance with her date.

"Now I have to spend more time with him," she whined. I rolled my eyes with a smile.

"Wow, hanging out with a sweet guy who's head over heels for you. What a tragedy," I groaned sarcastically. Lydia pouted.

"Sadie," she sighed. "I really don't know what you hoped to accomplish with this whole thing. He could be the sweetest guy in the world and I wouldn't do anything about it because you're my friend. You're my best friend."

"Lyd," I replied, shaking my head slightly and smiling. "Please just give him a try. Don't shut him down before you even get down there." Lydia remained skeptical and concerned. She looked as if she was looking at her dog with a broken leg, and even though she knew it would heal she still felt terrible. I tried to smile reassuringly. "God, he's gonna have a heart attack when you walk downstairs," I chuckled, looking over her dress once more.

"Yes, well," she huffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Hopefully he doesn't actually die when he sees you, because we did a spectacular job on you and while I didn't want to go with your boyfriend I would prefer my date still standing." I laughed quietly, shaking my head as she pulled on her shoes. "Well come on," she urged, handing me my pair of black pumps. "Mom is going to want a thousand and one pictures, and we can't miss our grand entrance."

"Just a second," I stalled, pulling on my shoes. "I just gotta grab my car keys."

"Oh no," Lydia half gasped in disgust. "Here." She rummaged in her bag, pulling out her own set of keys and offering them to me on a single finger.

"Lydia, it's fine," I assured her, shaking my head. "I'll just take the van."

"You absolutely will not," she snapped. Then she softened slightly, changing tactics. "Look, you're making me take your date. The least I can do is make you take my car." I smiled softly at her for a few seconds before accepting the keys.

"Thanks, Lyd," I said, and she nodded firmly.

"Perfect. Now, let's go."

"Actually, you go ahead," I deflected. "I have to grab something else."

"Hm, enter separately so we each have everyone's full attention," she mused, narrowing her eyes and smirking at me. "I like the way you think. Ah, I'm so proud." I rolled my eyes, nudging her towards the door. In the hall, we walked in opposite directions, Lydia heading towards the stairs while I walked to my room. I could hear our mothers cooing as she descended the stairs, making me smirk. Lydia Martin, actual princess of Beacon Hills.

I walked over to my vanity, snatching up my father's dog tags. I let the chain slide through my fingers, trying to decide what exactly I wanted to do with it. I wasn't going to leave them, but as wonderful as Lydia was, I was sure she wouldn't want me wearing them around my neck. I didn't like the idea of stuffing them in my purse either. After a few moments deliberation, I wrapped the chain around my wrist, adapting it into a sort of charm bracelet. I shook my hand slightly, testing to see if they would slide off, but they seemed pretty secure. I sighed, looking at myself in the mirror and spinning my new bracelet so I could clench my hand around the tags.

"Well," I whispered to my reflection. "I guess that's it." I let my eyes pan over my reflection once more, subconsciously looking for imperfections. But Lydia had been right. We had done a fantastic job on me, and for the first time in over a week, I actually felt like I looked great.

I grabbed my purse off the top of the table, feeling inside to make sure the everyday essentials were still inside—cell phone, lipstick, mirror, camera, taser—the usual. Then I walked into the hallway. There was still a considerable amount of chatter from downstairs, though it sounded more like my mother and Eleanor than my friends. Apparently, I wasn't the only one keeping an ear open.

"Sadie!" Lydia called. "Hurry up!"

"Yeah, I'm coming," I replied, but my feet stopped just before I could make it around the corner. Everything was going to be fine, I told myself. I would jut go downstairs, take a few pictures with Lydia and then go to pick up Scott. Simple, easy, painless. I breathed deeply through my nose, letting out the long stream of air through my lips. And then I stepped around the corner.

I kept my eyes mostly on my feet as I walked down the stairs. Lydia's mother cooed in appreciation, just as she had for my own daughter, and my mother was actually clapping, which made me want to roll my eyes. Lydia stood at the bottom of the stairs, arms clasped in front of her over her bag as she smiled proudly up at me. I returned the grin, stomach fluttering with anticipation as my eyes slid over to her very silent date.

Stiles stood just behind Lydia at the bottom of the stairs. He'd taken my advice about the black, and his jacket and pants were actually neatly pressed. His shoes were battered, but he'd admirably tried to hide the damage. His button down shirt had a light grid pattern on it, clashing slightly with his grey tie, which was adorned with crisscrossing diagonal stripes. I laughed internally, imagining the look of withering distaste Lydia must have given him when she'd come downstairs, eying his crooked tie with a quiet displeasure. But I couldn't laugh, not even giggle. Not once my eyes had locked on Stiles as I descended the last few steps. His maple eyes had gone slightly wide, his lips slightly parted. But it wasn't the same expression as when I'd pushed him into the wall at the school, or even when I'd sat on him. Now he seemed more devoid of emotion, more stuck than shocked. Any other time I'd seen him with that face, I'd known exactly what had caused it—Lydia gripping his bicep, me reaching into his pocket, me straddling him unexpectedly. But this face I couldn't dissect. I honestly had no clue what he was thinking except that he didn't seem to be able to speak for once.

"Sadie, you look adorable," Miss Eleanor gushed, pulling my attention away from the frustratingly silent boy in front of me.

"Adorable?" my mother scoffed. "Sweetheart, you're a knockout."

"Thanks, Mom," I laughed, rolling my eyes at her.

"I'm so proud of my little creation," Lydia sighed wistfully, and I gave her pointed look. There was a beat of silence before Lydia jostled Stiles with her elbow. He jumped, arms flailing out slightly and his head jerking as he turned back to me.

"Sorry! Yeah!" he agreed too-loudly. "Yes! You—wow…um…you look…yeah…" Lydia rolled her eyes with the highest level of exasperation.

"The word 'yeah' is not an adjective," she snapped, and Stiles looked quickly between to two of us.

"Right. Sorry, I uh…"

"It's fine," I dismissed, pursing my lips slightly. "You look very 'yeah' as well, Stiles." He laughed nervously and my mother took it upon herself to break the tension.

"So!" she interrupted, clapping her hands together. "What ya got there, Stiles?"

"Hm?" He looked over at her with wide eyes before glancing down at the plastic box in his hand. "Oh! Um, it's one of those wristy-flower things…"

"Corsage," I offered, making him nod fervently and brandish a finger at me.

"Yes! That!" he agreed, turning to Lydia. He held out a flimsy plastic box, showing her the small cluster of yellow roses whose tips were tinted red. A red ribbon peaked out from the base, where the elastic band was hidden underneath. "I mean I know it's just a stupid tenth grade dance and whatever, but I figured I should get you something anyway because…"

"It doesn't match," Lydia cut him off. He looked up from the box quickly, raising his eyebrows.

"What?"

"I'm wearing champagne pink," she explained snippily. "I can't wear yellow and red with champagne pink."

"Oh," Stiles deadpanned, lowering the box slightly.

"Lydia," I growled. We both knew perfectly well that the roses would look perfectly fine on her wrist, but Stiles, who couldn't pair together a matching shirt and tie, didn't have a clue that she was lying.

"Sadie's wearing red," she pointed out, completely ignoring my warning tone. "She can wear them." Everyone in the room turned to look at me as I opened and closed my mouth, glancing from the corsage to my traitor best friend, to Stiles, my mother, and back again.

"Lydia, don't be ridiculous," I snapped. "He got you flowers. Just wear them."

"No," she replied, just as fiercely. "Sadie, if you don't wear them, they're just going to sit in the fridge until we have to throw them out. Put it on." Lydia and I glared at each other, locked in a battle of wills until the silence was broken by the snap of plastic. We both turned to Stiles who was trying to quietly open the corsage box. Finally he just ripped it open, placing the box on the ground before he turned to look at me again.

"It's fine," he assured me with a small smile. "You were supposed to be my date anyway, right?" I glanced between Stiles and the roses once more, not sure whether I was trying to make sure I'd remember the image forever or if I wanted to banish it completely from my mind. Finally I sighed and held out the wrist that was not sporting my father's dog tags. Stiles took a few tentative steps forward before reaching for my hand. I shut my eyes, actually holding my breath as he slid the bouquet onto my wrist, fingers fumbling lightly over my skin. Then the elastic stopped moving, the petals of the roses tickling my hand, and Stiles hadn't let go. My eyes fluttered open, connecting briefly with Stiles's warm brown ones, which were watching me intently. A second later, my eyes snapped shut tightly, blinded by a bright flash. Stiles immediately retracted his hands as we turned to look at my mother, who was standing next to Miss Eleanor. They were both holding cameras up and wearing excited, practically manic smiles.

"Okay, up on the stairs," Lydia's mom ordered. "We just want to take a few pictures before you leave."

Of course the phrase "a few," in relation to pictures, is often substituted for the phrase "a ton" or "an obscene amount of." Stiles and Lydia went first, an odd looking couple. Lydia threw him around carelessly, pushing him into position for whatever pose she wanted to do. I held my tongue, forcing myself not scold her or laugh outright as Stiles continually tripped himself up over the stairs. Then Stiles and I had swapped out, so I could take a few pictures with Lydia. We moved together almost seamlessly, which was nice because it meant I didn't have Lydia manhandling me into the next position. We took a few serious pictures and a few silly pictures, pictures posed on banister, pictures standing back to back. All the while Miss Eleanor and my mother were snapping pictures, calling out suggestions for the next pose while Stiles stood back, watching us thoughtfully and smirking occasionally. Finally, after over fifty pictures of Lydia and I, I threw up my hands.

"Okay, okay," I called, moving down the stairs. "I gotta go pick up Scott."

"Not so fast," my mother interrupted, stepping firmly between me and the door. "He may not be your date, but I want pictures of you and Stiles." I had to force myself to not glare at her as she smirked. She had been especially displeased when I told her I got Lydia to agree to go with Stiles. She thought it was noble, sure, but frankly unhealthy. There'd been several cracks about no teenage girl being that selfless, and how she'd rather I was handing out death threats to every girl Stiles made eye contact with. So while she wouldn't be seeing me off on our date, she still seemed to be trying to put me through as much emotional trauma as she could.

Lydia flounced past me down the stairs and I grudgingly took a few heavy steps back up. Stiles jogged up to take Lydia's place, shifting awkwardly on his feet and clapping his hands together when he was finally next to me.

"So! What do you wanna do?" he asked, his voice shaking slightly. I rolled my eyes.

"It's sophomore winter formal, Stiles, not senior prom. Try not to have an aneurism." Without waiting for a response, I threw an arm around his shoulder, turning to my mother's camera and sticking my tongue out. Stiles immediately played along, wrapping his arm around my waist and pretending to take a bite of my head. We got away with taking mostly stupid pictures, pulling faces at each other and at the camera. Of course, my mom made us take a few serious pictures, like poses where I had to face him with my hands on his chest so she could see the corsage. We immediately pulled back from those poses as soon as the flash went off, breaking the tension by poking or shoving each other or crossing our eyes. This time I did draw the line at "a few" only letting my mother take ten or so pictures before I hopped down the stairs.

"Okay, seriously, that's it," I concluded, scooping my bag up and sliding it up the arm that was not sporting a corsage. "Stiles may have shown up early, but if I don't leave right now I'm gonna be late for picking up Scott." I hugged Lydia and her mother goodbye, smacking Stiles's forehead firmly when he tried to do the same. My mother opened her mouth to protest, but I held up a hand at the speed of light. "Yes, Mom, I will make sure Mrs. McCall gets plenty of pictures of Scott and I and that we get a copy. Thank you for needlessly reminding me." She glared playfully at me, pulling me into a hug before pushing me towards the door.

"Okay, fine, go on," she urged, taking one last candid photo of me. "Have fun. Make good choices. Be safe."

"I'll try," I promised her, Peter's fanged face flashing in my mind. Then, with a small wink at Stiles and Lydia, I dashed out the door and into Lydia's car.

The ride to Scott's house was a blur, honestly. I enjoyed driving Lydia's smooth ride, and took advantage of the get-psyched playlist she still had on in the car. Mostly it was background music, with the exception of the few minutes where I blasted "Ironic" by Alanis Morissette, a song I suspected that Lydia had added to the mix specifically to cheer me up. I applauded my own timing, pulling up in front of Scott's house just as the final chords faded. I quickly killed the engine, walking up to the front door and ringing the bell.

"Oh, wow," Mrs. McCall greeted when she opened the door. "Sadie, you look fantastic."

"Thanks, Mrs. McCall," I replied with a grin, stepping carefully over the threshold.

"You also look a little early," she added, glancing down at her watch.

"Yeah, sorry about that," I apologized. "Stiles showed up at my house early and threw us off schedule." Mrs. McCall nodded knowingly.

"Why does that not surprise me?"

"Probably because he breaks into your house like twice a week," I offered with a smirk. She bobbed her head to the side in agreement, resting her hands on her hips.

"Yeah, I'd say that's probably a good reason," she conceded. "Anyway, Scott's just about ready. Come on." She waved a hand to indicate that I should follow her, then led the way back upstairs to her son's bedroom. "Scott!" she called as we walked down the hall. "Sadie's here!"

"Okay!" his voice replied. "Be down in a minute!" We walked into his room, where Scott was standing next to his bed, struggling with a lightly patterned tie under the collar of his plain white shirt. I grinned. At least someone had actually followed my advice. Scott looked up at our footsteps, clearly too preoccupied to have noticed us coming down the hall. "Or you can just come in, sure."

"Sorry," I apologized with a smirk. "Did you want to make your grand entrance down the stairs?" Scott chuckled, shaking his head.

"Nah, I'll live without it," he dismissed with a smile. "You look really nice, Sadie."

"You don't clean up too bad yourself, McCall," I responded, grinning and perching myself on his desk chair. He rolled his eyes, fumbling with the tie for a few more seconds before he gave up and walked into the bathroom to use the mirror. Mrs. McCall walked over to his bed, where Scott had laid out his suit jacket.

"This is really nice," she complimented, smoothing out the lapels. "How did you afford a…? Oh…" She flipped the front of the jacket open, and even from my seat across the room I could see the duct tape holding the seams together. Scott let out a strangled sigh of frustration, rushing back into the room.

"It's not gonna work, is it?" he asked in despair.

"No, no, no, it's fine. It's fine," his mother assured him with a smile. "No one'll notice." She closed the jacket once more, shaking it out and holding it up to the light with a skeptical glare. "No one legally blind," she added quietly, making me smirk.

"I heard that!" he snapped from the bathroom.

"Scott, it's really okay," I consoled, playing with the curl next to my face. "You can't tell from the outside, it's gonna be darker than it is in your room, and you can always take the jacket off if you want."

"Exactly," Mrs. McCall agreed with a firm nod. "Now will you just come in here so we can try it?" Scott scampered out of the bathroom, straightening his finished tie before holding his arms out so his mother could help him into the suit. "Come on, come on, come on," she rushed. "Let's do this… See? I actually think this is gonna work."

"Really?" he asked as she straightened his lapels once more. I nodded.

"Looking sharp, Scott," I complimented.

"Turn," his mother ordered. Scott spun around lifting his arms to test the jacket and making it lift up to reveal a gaping hole in the seat of his pants. I pursed my lips hard, trying to contain my laughter for everything I was worth. "And…no," Mrs. McCall informed him, glaring down at the rip.

"What?" Scott asked with concern. His mother simply hummed, pointing to the hole, which Scott twisted frantically to look at. "What?! I—I don't have time for this!" he groaned. "I can't buy new ones! Mom, what am I gonna do?!"

"Okay!" she replied quickly, heading for the door. "Don't panic, alright? Take them off. Pants off now." Scott groaned, running for his dresser and grabbing a pair of basketball shorts to change into.

"Scott, really, there's no rush," I said soothingly. "Lydia always says it's best to arrive fashionably late anyway."

"Yeah, but…" He glanced at the door, listening to make sure his mother was still out of earshot. "If Peter actually shows up everything's gonna get cut short anyway. I just want to make sure we get as much time as possible."

"Okay," I replied, smiling softly. "Then you should probably change like right now."

"Right," he agreed, and he dashed into the bathroom to change into the shorts. Mrs. McCall returned a few seconds later, carrying a small sewing kit to patch up her son's pants. She smiled at me as she sat on the edge of his bed, eyes flitting down to the roses on my wrist.

"Those are nice," she observed, opening her kit and choosing a needle and thread. "Who got you those?"

"Uh…Stiles," I replied, tossing my hand slightly. "Well, you know, he didn't get them for me really. He bought them for my friend Lydia, but she didn't want to wear them, because she said they didn't match her dress which was a lie and since we didn't want them to go waste I'm wearing them instead." Mrs. McCall raised her eyebrows at me, and I winced, realizing just how rapidly I'd been talking.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked after a moment's hesitation. I nodded as she threaded her needle. "I'm sorry, but… Wasn't Stiles supposed to be your date?"

"Uh, yeah," I sighed, ducking my head slightly.

"What happened there?" she inquired. I shrugged, inspecting the edges of my black pumps.

"Last minute change of plans," I offered vaguely. "Lydia owed someone a favor, and Stiles really, really likes her, so I pulled a few strings to get him his chance with her."

"Oh," she replied quietly. "Sorry, it's just…you know, after that date you guys went on, I thought…"

"No," I interrupted with a wry smile. "Trust me, that night really didn't turn out great for any of us." She nodded slowly, tying off the end of the thread.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I was talking to him about you after we dropped you off," she offered. I cringed.

"Yeah, no, I don't think that makes me feel any better." She smiled warmly.

"He seemed really nervous," she informed me. "Really beating himself up for ruining your night. Sounds like…" She closed her mouth immediately as Scott walked back into the room. He handed his pants to his mother, smirking over at me.

"Hey, don't stop talking about Stiles just cause I'm here," he chuckled, plopping down on the bed and lying back. "I've been trying to get them together for ages." I glared at him, but this just made Mrs. McCall smile.

"In that case," she chirped, turning back to me as she flipped the pants to get at the seam. "It sounded like he was really excited to be going out with you. I might have pulled the mom card and told him not to hurt you, and he gave me a little speech about how amazing he knew you were and how he wouldn't do anything to hurt you."

"Maybe not intentionally," I grumbled, crossing my arms over my chest and mentally wondering when Stiles had become such a good actor. "But he can't help it that he likes Lydia more. We were only going as friends anyway. Now he gets his chance with his dream girl, and I'm still going as friends, but with Scott."

"That is almost an unsettlingly healthy point of view," she complimented, not looking up from her work. I chuckled, but paused when I was struck by another thought.

"Actually, speaking of how we're going to the dance together," I began, turning to look pointedly at Scott. "Would you like to explain why Stiles was so eager to practically shove us together this morning? What was that about?"

"Yeah, about that," Scott replied sheepishly, sitting up once more. "He thought he was doing the same favor you did for him with Lydia."

"What?" I asked, furrowing my eyebrows. Scott sighed.

"Stiles has apparently been laboring under the impression that you have a huge, debilitating crush on me."

"What?!" Mrs. McCall and Scott both looked at me, slightly surprised by my outburst. "Sorry, Scott. It's just…what?! Why would he think that?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "I tried telling him that it was ridiculous, but he told me I was just really oblivious, and you'd practically told him straight up. Something about this huge depressing speech you gave him about wanting someone who wants someone else."

"Yeah!" I agreed viciously. "He was talking about how he wanted Lydia even though she still wanted Jackson, so I started talking about him and Lydia!"

"Did you tell him you were talking about him and Lydia?" Mrs. McCall asked.

"No, of course not!" I snapped. But then I froze as realization dawned on me. "Which is why…he probably thought I was talking to him about how you wanted Allison…damnit…"

"In his defense," Scott offered, "he probably wouldn't expect you to talk about him to his face."

"God, of course he wouldn't think I was talking about him," I groaned, pressing a hand to my forehead. "He's always so worried about being second best, obviously he was gonna think I was talking about you. What the hell am I supposed to do now? I can't just tell him that I don't like you because then he'll know you told me."

"Then you show him," Mrs. McCall advised. "I mean, I'm not saying that you shouldn't spend time with Scott, obviously, but if you make a point to show him that you two aren't attached at the hip just because you're on a date, hopefully he'll get the message."

"Hopefully," I agreed, internally arguing that that would only be possible if his eyes weren't glued to Lydia. Mrs. McCall seemed to sense my reluctance, and helpfully pushed us onto a new subject.

"You two only decided to go together this morning?" she asked.

"Yeah," I confirmed. "Well, up until yesterday I was still technically going with Stiles."

"And you didn't have a date either?" she asked her son. Scott shrugged.

"I was gonna go stag."

"You were gonna go alone?" she asked in surprise. Scott glared at her slightly.

"Stag," he corrected. "There's a difference. Sort of."

"Sorry," his mother conceded looking back at the dress pants. "I'm just a little, you know, surprised that, you know, you don't have anyone else to ask other than Allison."

"There are no other girls besides Allison," he sighed, then looked up at me. "No offense, Sadie."

"None taken," I shrugged. "I think your complete and utter devotion to her is one of the best things about you." I smiled supportively, but it didn't seem to do much to cheer him up.

"You really feel that way?" Mrs. McCall asked him. Scott sighed again before standing up, moving to pace around the room.

"Mom, can you just please keep sewing?"

"No, no, no, no," she replied, pausing to grab him and pull him back onto the bed with her. "You have time for just one question. Come here." Scott groaned, plopping down next to his mother. I uncrossed my legs, fidgeting slightly in my chair.

"Um…do you want me to…?" I glanced towards the door awkwardly. I was completely fine with Scott listening in on conversations about Stiles and me. He listened in on most of our conversations anyway, and probably knew more about the situation that I did myself. But this was a conversation he was meant to be having with his mother, and I didn't want to overstep my boundaries by intruding on mother-son bonding time. But to my surprise, Scott and his mother both shook their heads.

"I don't mind," Scott assured me. "Only fair right?" I shrugged, still not completely comfortable with the idea.

"I think you could use some advice too," Mrs. McCall added. "Just sit right there." I bit my lip, crossing my legs once more and sitting on my hands. "Now," she started, turning back to her son. "Do you really feel that way?"

"I can't help it," Scott replied weakly, after a moment of deliberation. "I mean, every time I look at her, I get this…this hollow feeling in my chest, and it's like…it's like someone literally took a shovel and dug a hole in me, and it's the worst feeling I've ever had in my life, and I didn't…I didn't know anyone could actually ever feel this bad." I nodded in agreement, staring down at the floor and remembering how thinking about Stiles either made me feel like my entire body was going to explode from butterflies and a warm tingling sensation, or it was just going to collapse in on itself from some invisible pressure.

"I know," Mrs. McCall responded soothingly. "Everyone knows eventually. But it does go away."

"I don't want it to." He spoke quietly, making both his mother and I look at him. Mrs. McCall seemed surprised at the honesty in his voice, and I was just so happy that someone had managed to put my feelings into words for me. I knew that the best thing was to just forget about Stiles, to go live my life and try and find someone else, but as much frustration as it'd caused me, I didn't feel like I was ready to suddenly _not_ feel it.

"Have you told her how you feel?" Mrs. McCall pressed, sticking the needle into the excess fabric of the pants so she could turn her full attention to her son.

"She knows," Scott replied casually, making me roll my eyes and his mother to actually smack him on the head.

"Come on! 'She knows.' 'She knows'?!" she grumbled in exasperation. "Listen, dumbass, I'm gonna let you in on a secret that most guys don't even have a clue about, alright? You ready?" Scott nodded in confusion. "Women love words," she informed him slowly, dragging her hand through the air to punctuate every word. I nodded fervently in agreement.

"Huh?" Scott asked, quickly glancing between the two of us as if we were presenting him with the most important knowledge he would ever receive.

"You need to tell her how you feel," his mother advised simply. "Just say it. Say it again. Say it differently. Learn how to say it better. Learn how to sing it." Scott and I both grinned at the wistful smile on his mother's face as she continued to go on. "You know, just write it in a poem and a letter attached to flowers. Carve it in a tree, in a sidewalk with cement, tattoo on your arm…"

"Really?" Scott asked, half laughing. Mrs. McCall paused her sewing to give him a pointed look.

"No, not really" she answered firmly, expertly biting the thread off the finished pants. "Just…tell her the truth. Tell her everything and anything you want." Scott glanced up, meeting my eyes for a moment as we both imagined what him telling Allison _everything_ would actually entail.

"Everything?" he asked weakly. His mother smiled and nodded.

"But when you do," she added, pointing to his jacket. "I'd keep that buttoned." She smirked, tossing him the newly fixed pants. "And maybe you should tell Stiles to do the same. That boy seriously needs to work on his communication skills." She stood up, beckoning me with a hand.

"I'll meet you downstairs," I told Scott before leaving him to change back into his dress pants.

"Now you," Mrs. McCall said suddenly as we descended the staircase, catching me slightly off guard. I hadn't been expecting any actual advice myself. "You need to learn to use your words too, sweetie."

"Why?" I half-laughed. "Do men love words too?" Mrs. McCall chuckled, her dark curls bouncing as she shook her head.

"No, they definitely do not," she conceded as we reached the first floor. "But sometimes they need to hear them anyway. Because men? Men can be very, very slow and oblivious. And Stiles has one of the thickest skulls of any teenage boy I've ever met." I giggled, looking down at my shoes.

"I don't know," I sighed. "It's just different with me and Scott, I guess. I mean, he loves Allison even though he's not with her, but it's not like she's not with him because she doesn't like him. She still likes him a lot, but she needs to get her feeling back in order. She doesn't want to be with anyone else either. With Stiles and I… It's just like, I like him, but he likes Lydia. That's what's standing in the way. I feel like if he knew about how I felt, it'd just make things awkward for him. For everyone really."

"Hey," she started, making me look up. She was watching me, not really with pity, but with a knowing smile. "You're not my kid, so I can't smack you, but really. Tell him how you feel. And if that doesn't work, show him. He may be slow, but he's not stupid. I think you might be surprised by how things turn out." Before I could ask her what she meant by that, Scott came rushing down the stairs.

"Sorry!" he panted. "Let's go."

"Ugh, actually, not quite," I sighed, fishing my camera out of my bag and handing it to Mrs. McCall. "My mom's gonna skin me alive if I don't ask you to take pictures of us." The woman slapped her hand to her forehead.

"God, I can't believe I was about to let you guys walk out of the house without taking pictures. What kind of a mother am I?"

"A merciful one?" Scott suggested with a grin, but she ran to get her own camera anyway.

Mrs. McCall was a lot less ruthless with a camera than my own mother had been. She took a few pictures and yelled at us to stop making stupid faces. But most of the pictures we took featured Scott and I with huge, cheesy smiles that forced our eyes closed, so Scott's lens-flare eyes wouldn't act up. I explained away the few pictures where the glare was visible by saying that my camera sometimes acted up when the flash was on, and I'd attempt to edit out the glare later, which had made Scott smirk. Ten minutes later we were cleared for departure, and Scott and I climbed into the front seats of Lydia's VW Beetle.

"You ready for this?" he asked softly, and I gave him a small smile.

"As I'll ever be. You?"

"Yeah, I'm good," he replied. "So long as you don't plan on getting into any car chases. I'd like to make it to the formal in one piece." I laughed, shoving his shoulder.

"You're no fun," I groaned, still laughing, but I pulled out onto the road and promised to obey all of the speed laws.

Scott and I put on some music low in the background and chatted aimlessly as we drove, trying not to think to hard about what would be waiting for us at the dance. We didn't want to psych ourselves out by thinking about our complicated love lives, or the impending danger that was Peter Hale. At least for the car ride, we felt like we could both be just two normal kids, friends going to a winter formal as if they didn't have a single problem in the world.

We were wrong.

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys! So, sorry that it's been a little bit since I posted. I'm officially moved back into my dorm though, so I can get started on the long list of things I have to do. Posting this chapter for you guys was number one on my list. I'm segmenting the formal into so many different parts, and I'm so sorry. I just wrote like, a LOT.**

**I do just want to clear one thing up. Last chapter I tried to give Kate a bit of a background. Gerard said in season 2 that Allison reminded him of Kate because "she defied me too." So I wanted to extrapolate on a point in Kate's life when maybe she was a bit more like Sadie and thought werewolves were okay. However, the guy in Kate's story is NOT Derek. She clearly had no qualms about burning his family alive, so her origin story is supposed to happen before that. Just another badass werewolf dude she dated who turned her into the person who was capable of using Derek to slaughter his family.**

**My eternal love and gratitude to all you new readers, favoriters, followers and reviewers. Big thank you to stilinskisgirl, XLostxinXWonderland314, ellibellisballs, Nelle07, BloodMoonWanes, xXbriannaXx, becca1130, prettyargents, Lojo2014o, ScornedxRose, casper6six6, Rachel, Janedoee7, ElithaAndWest, Alexstarlight18, GetsueiNoYume, DreamingUntilForever11, SammieLuvsFood, xxxxninaxxxx, Isaac fan, lilyllama, TameTheGhosts, gLeekyandProud, AmandaDesiree, xALFiex, Kelly1432, LynZann, DetectiveKateTodd, Megan Elaine9, GeekaZoid420, .lover, A Cool Guest, racheljbyers, RBL54, kodt4e, FlyingHampsterOfDoom, mfmxxx, kaljara and LionHeartMisfit! WOW, 39 REVIEWS. THAT MY FRIENDS IS AN ALL TIME HIGH. GO ALL OF YOU.**

**Things you should check out! I have a link on my profile page to a picture of Sadie's dress, and a handwritten playlist that my friend Briana made, which is awesome. Also, if you read "Strangers"/"What Lies Beneath" by LionHeartMisfit, or any of MissECharlotte's stories, you should check out the tumblr page. Ashela made a few great edits for our stories, and the two of use were also playing around with snippets of a Strangers/The Wild Side collaboration where Sadie and Maggie meet up. Definitely go check those out, and other questions people have asked on the tumblr page.**

**Thank you all so much for sticking with me. Hold on tight, because the next couple chapters are gonna be CRAZY. Can't wait to hear what you think.**

**-Brittney**


	30. Chapter 30

When Scott and I pulled up to the school, the parking lot was packed. Newly washed cars were everywhere, and people were still filing into the building in pairs or groups. Sparkling beads had been hung over the school doorway, catching the light of the large stars that were being projected onto the building. Large columns of blue and white balloons lined the path up to the door, and the people manning the student council table on the sidewalk looked like they had their hands full collecting tickets. Busy was good. The longer the staff was busy with the crowd, the easier it would be to sneak Scott in.

I threw the car into park on the outer edge of the parking lot, peering out the windshield and up at the staggering amount of decorations.

"Well this certainly beats the last time we spent the night at school," I joked, scanning the crowd for familiar faces.

"Tell me about it," Scott laughed. I turned the car off and reached to take off my seatbelt. "Oh, wait, hang on!" he interrupted. I paused, raising my eyebrows as Scott scrambled to unfasten his seatbelt and get out of the car. He slammed the door behind him, running around the front of the car so he could open the driver's side door for me with a cheesy grin. I smiled, shaking my head as I undid my seatbelt and grabbed my purse.

"What a gentleman," I complimented, accepting Scott's hand so he could help me out of the car. He shut the door behind me, shrugging off the praise as I locked the Beetle.

"Figured it was only fair," he offered. "Considering you've gotta open the door for me now."

"Right," I agreed. "Chemistry room on the top floor, right?"

"Yeah," he confirmed. "I just need you to get up the stairs and open the roof door for me." He started to turn away towards the fire escape, but I grabbed his arm.

"Woah, woah, woah," I stopped him. "This is the same door that you had to steal the key from the janitor for? How the hell am I supposed to open it?"

"Oh, right, way ahead of you," he remembered, pulling out a sleek gold key from his pocket. I raised my eyebrows. "Stiles and I stole it during school today," he proclaimed with a grin. I rolled my eyes.

"Of course you did. Criminal masterminds, the both of you." Scott shrugged smugly as I tucked the key into my purse.

"Okay, I'll meet you inside," he bid, walking backwards a few steps. I nodded.

"Good luck." And then we parted ways, Scott heading for the fire escape, and me striding towards the front doors to hand in my ticket.

Getting Scott into the building was a lot easier than we'd anticipated. After I walked in the building, I was pretty much free to go where I wanted, which was pretty appalling security considering the murders in town. I walked in the direction of the nearest bathroom, glanced around, and then walked right past it, ducking into the nearest stairwell and heading for the second floor. It was dark and completely deserted, which made it easier to just walk up to the chemistry room where we had hidden from the Alpha with Allison, Lydia and Jackson. I worried for a moment that it might be locked, but just as the night of the attack, it was open. I slipped the janitor's key out of my bag and easily unlocked the deadbolt, propping the door open with a block and darting up the stairs to the roof door. Then Scott and I quickly and quietly made our way back down to the gym, closing the doors behind us and hiding the key away once more.

If the outside of the school had looked impressive, the inside was truly magical. How student government had managed to scrape together enough money for the set up was completely beyond me. Large curtains of fabric framed the dance floor, hanging in spaced sheets in a circle and running into the center where they peaked above a glittering disco ball. Tall cylinder lights hung from the ceiling, along with several sets of sweeping stage lights and strobe lights that bathed the room in a warm and rapidly changing glow of pinks, blues and purples. There were several tables arranged around the dance floor where groups could sit and chat, people could eat and drink, and exhausted couples could take a break from dancing. Along with these normal tables, there were two or three taller ones with glass tabletops, bright lights placed underneath to make their surfaces luminescent. A live band played at the far side of the dance floor, creating an interesting mix of live and recorded music that I would not have expected to be hearing at a stupid high school dance. I scanned the silhouetted bodies around us, but found no familiar faces. I exchanged a nervous smile with Scott.

"Come on," I offered, grabbing his arm. "Gotta keep you out of Finstock's line of sight." The heavy beat of the dance music urged me to fight my way onto the dance floor and join the fray, but instead I tugged Scott up to a high seat on the bleachers. Reasonably in the shadows, it would be harder for the coach to recognize Scott and considerably easier for us to keep an eye on our friends. Scott stayed on the edge of his seat, elbows leaning on his legs in nervous anticipation. I, on the other hand, propped my feet up on the row of seats in front of us, crossing my legs and leaning back against the row behind us in a bored, unladylike manner that would have made Lydia cringe.

Doing a second scan of the crowd, I suddenly found my eyes locked with caramel ones. Stiles was slouched in his chair at a table with Lydia, who looked supremely bored as she sipped her drink while Stiles watched us. He beamed when I looked his way, lifting a hand in a wave. I smirked, merely nodding my head before I looked away.

"Well, I found Stiles," I informed the fabric of my dress. Scott shifted next to me.

"And there's Allison," he countered morosely. I looked up, following his line of sight to one of the glowing tables. Jackson stood with a cup clenched in his hand, looking so beyond bored I was surprised he hadn't slipped into a coma. Allison stood next to him, rocking back and forth on her feet and looking shiftily around as her date neglected her. Scott hissed under his breath. I stood up abruptly, sliding my purse under my seat. Scott quickly looked up.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Well, just because you have to stay on the bleachers doesn't mean I do," I pointed out, smoothing out my dress. "I'm gonna go save Allison from her douche-canoe date, and you keep an eye out for trouble." Scott nodded reluctantly, obviously wishing he could be the one swooping in to save the day. But unfortunately, we were both fairly certain Coach Finstock had been one hundred percent serious about pulling Scott out of the gym by his teeth if he caught him there, so it was up to me. I tousled his hair, earning me a reproachful look before I marched down the stairs. I skipped over to the awkward couple, not offering any sort of acceptable greeting. Instead, I simply bumped Jackson in the shoulder and grabbed Allison's wrist. "Later, loser," I sang, and then pulled Allison out onto the dance floor. She laughed in relief once we were free of the surly lacrosse captain.

"Oh my God, thank you," she sighed with a wide smile. "I mean Jackson can be great and all but…"

"I'd disagree with that statement whole-heartedly," I objected. "But the important thing is that he's gone and we are now allowed to have fun." I finished the sentence with a nod of finality, grabbing both her hands and throwing them up over our heads, forcing us to spin underneath. Her loud laughter blended with the pounding of the speakers, and she nodded in acceptance, silently conceding to bounce around and raise her arms and sing loudly with me to all of the songs we knew for as long as we could remain standing.

Dancing with Allison, I found, was actually extremely therapeutic. It sounds ridiculously cliché to say that I got lost in the music, but laughing with Allison and trying to jump up and down in the ridiculous shoes I was wearing at least distracted me from my problems. My feet were sore and my cheeks almost hurt from smiling, but I wasn't worrying about Peter or Stiles or any of it. At least, not until Allison decided that she needed to catch her breath. She pulled me away with her, dragging me towards the punch table so I she could take a minute to relax.

"So, where's Scott?" she asked timidly. I smiled at her pitiful attempt to sound blasé, trying to pat my hair down into a respectable shape once more.

"Hiding up in the bleachers," I informed her. "He's kind of, um…not supposed to be here."

"Ah, well that explains why he was up on the roof," she nodded, taking a sip from her cup. I rolled my eyes, exasperated that Scott couldn't even manage to walk along the rooftop without being caught. "So, he snuck in just because you didn't have a date?" she asked.

"Don't be ridiculous," I chuckled, giving her a pointed look. "He came here to be with you." Allison pursed her lips, trying to hide the smile that was threatening to tear her face in two. She cleared her throat.

"Well, um… If—If he wanted to talk to me why isn't he down here?"

"Because Coach Finstock is chaperoning," I informed her carelessly. "Apparently he threated Scott pretty explicitly. He's hiding from him so he doesn't get dragged out of the dance by his neck or his teeth or his crotch or something." Allison slapped a hand over her mouth in an attempt to hide her giggles. Before she could respond though, a familiar loud and obnoxious voice rang through the air, amplified as it bounced off the gymnasium walls.

"McCall! I see you!"

"But apparently," I sighed, turning around so I could watch the coach push his way through the crowd, "all of this has been pointless and he's getting thrown out anyway." Most of the crowd continued to dance to the music, though several people had stopped curiously to see what was going on. I glanced over at the bleachers, watching as Scott dashed down the stairs practically doubled over.

"Come here, buddy! McCall!" the coach was still screaming. I pursed my lips as Scott hid behind a sheer swath of curtain. That wasn't going to do much to keep his lacrosse coach away. "Get outta my way!" Finstock ordered, shoving some bystanders into each other as he made his way across the floor. "McCall! It's a small gym, buddy! I'm gonna find you!" I snuck another look at the curtain where Scott was hiding, the curtain the coach was headed straight towards. Making a split second decision, I shoved my cup into Allison's hands and moved onto the dance floor.

"Ashlea! Hey!" I cheered, sprinting over to the girl, who was conveniently placed directly in the coach's path. She'd been dancing with her boyfriend, and raised her eyebrows at the interruption. Finstock barreled over to us, and for a moment I was afraid he was going to walk straight over me anyway.

"Get out of my way!" he ordered. I moved to do so, purposely mirroring his actions as if I wasn't sure which way I was supposed to be making my exit.

"Heh, uh sorry, Coach!" I laughed nervously, but he had absolutely no patience for the distraction.

"Bennet!" he roared, clamping his hands on my shoulders. "Stop moving!" he quickly pushed me to one side, forcing me to remain out of the way as he blew past me. "I gotcha McCall! Come here! McCall!" Luckily though, Scott had moved from his place behind the curtain. Finstock nearly tangled himself in it and ripped it down from the ceiling with the ferocity of his actions as he yanked the fabric aside. Unfortunately, a few seconds later, it seemed he'd found his mark. "McCall! You're not supposed to be…!"

The entire dance had stopped at this point. The band had stopped playing, the students had stopped dancing, and everyone was looking curiously around to figure out just what Coach Finstock was screaming about this time. I moved closer to Ashlea and her boyfriend, craning my neck so I could get a better look at the situation. Finstock had skidded to a halt in front of Scott, chest heaving as he prepared to rip him a new one. But then I realized just why the coach had trailed off. Scott was dancing with Danny, who looked thoroughly confused. Even so, he had his hands on Scott's waist, while Scott's arms were thrown haphazardly around his neck. He glanced over at the coach with what was supposed to be an innocent expression, but he looked properly terrified.

"What the hell are you…?!" the coach tried to ask again, looking between his two players. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Yes, Coach?" Scott asked innocently, tightening his arms around an extremely uncomfortable Danny. I clenched my hand over my mouth in an attempt to keep myself from laughing too loudly.

"Okay," the coach laughed nervously, looking around at the silent crowd. Some people were just watching with mild interest, but a few of those people who couldn't gather much information about the situation were giving him reproachful, disgusted looks. "Hold on, you… I was just saying he's not supposed to… I mean, I wasn't saying that he shouldn't…" I mentally thanked whatever higher power there could be for Coach Finstock's scattered brain and apparent inability to complete a sentence. The situation probably could have been dispelled easily if he could, but as it was, the damage had already been done. "You guys don't think… You don't… I—I was… Just dance, everybody! Just dance! It's a dance! It's a party! Ha ha ha!" The Coach retreated nervously back into the crowd, abandoning his target for the moment. I shook my head, wiping silent tears of laughter from my eyes. Ashlea's boyfriend rested a hand on my shoulder.

"Sorry, Sadie," he apologized, making me look up in confusion.

"What?"

"You're crying," he pointed out. "Scott was your date, right? I mean, what a way to find out…" Ashlea rolled her eyes, promptly smacking him on the chest.

"Don't be stupid, dorkburger," she scolded, rolling her eyes. I chuckled.

"Oh no, it wasn't like… Yeah, um, I just wanted to come over and say hi. Sorry for interrupting." I nodded and quickly backed out of the conversation, heading over to Allison, who looked thoroughly amused. Before I could say anything though, Scott was scampering over to us, hopeful puppy-dog expression so firmly in place that I was almost surprised I couldn't see his tail wagging behind him. He opened his mouth to speak, but instead I grabbed Allison's hand, holding it out to him. "Yes, she would love to dance with you," I offered before he could ask. Allison flushed slightly, and Scott ducked his head for a moment.

"Actually," he offered me sheepishly. "I was kinda hoping I could dance with you for a bit. I owe my date at least one dance, right?" I furrowed my eyebrows at the unexpected offer, but Allison was smiling sweetly. She pulled her hand from mine and pushed me gently towards Scott.

"Go ahead," she ordered with a grin. "I can wait a few more songs." I sighed, not because I didn't want to dance with Scott, but because I was so anxious to have the two of them make up.

"One dance," I agreed, brandishing a finger at him. Scott nodded with a grin, offering his arm so he could lead me into the crowd of dancers.

The song was a mellow one, not necessarily a slow dance, but quiet enough that Scott and I could talk to each other without having to scream in each other's ears. I rested my hands on his shoulders, and he held my waist, considerably farther from me than he'd been with Danny. I shook my head softly as we danced, but Scott's amusement had ebbed into contemplation. I cocked an eyebrow.

"If this is about you talking to Allison, you're gonna be fine," I assured him. "Just take your mom's advice."

"All of it?" he asked desperately, and I shrugged.

"Well, I'd lead with the whole 'I love you' thing," I suggested. "It'll probably make the rest a lot easier."

"But what if she doesn't…accept the rest?" Despair tinged his voice, making my heart break for him slightly.

"I did," I reminded him.

"You don't come from a family of professional werewolf hunters," he dismissed.

"We don't even know if she knows yet, though," I pointed out. "And I think if she hears it from you first, it might give you a foot hold for being honest with her before her family was." Scott nodded, understanding the logic but still looking torn. "If it helps, she's not dancing with Jackson," I observed, looking over his shoulder to where his girlfriend stood at the edge of the crowd. "She's trying to have a conversation with a girl in our Economics class, but she just keeps looking over here instead." Scott grinned, ducking his head as if to hide how much that information really did help ease his anxiety. He looked up once more, looking over my shoulder and nodding slightly.

"If it helps you, Stiles is about three yards behind you," he informed me. "And he's not paying too much attention to dancing with Lydia."

"Hm, so he finally got her to dance?" I asked, unable to keep the bitterness from creeping into my voice. I knew it wasn't the response Scott had been looking for, but that was the biggest piece of information I could gather from the statement. "Probably wooed her with some heartfelt confession."

"Actually, she had to drag him out," Scott said with a smirk. "A couple songs after you started dancing with Allison."

"Oh," I deadpanned. I hadn't even noticed where Stiles and Lydia had been since I left the bleachers. "Well, I'm glad she's holding up her end of the deal to give him a chance." Scott sighed at the apparently unsatisfactory answer. It was silent for a while as I looked around the beautifully decorated gym, and Scott seemed to search for what he wanted to say next.

"Okay," he sighed after nearly and entire verse of the song that was playing. "Desperate times call for desperate measures."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, scrunching up my face in confusion.

"You and Stiles still aren't together," he elaborated casually. "So I have to break the bro code."

"What? Scott, no," I ordered, shaking my head adamantly. "Don't say anything Stiles wouldn't want you to."

"Sadie, it's like the same thing Stiles did when he told you about me being a werewolf," he hissed. My eyes widened slightly.

"Scott, that was a matter of life and death," I growled.

"So is this!" he replied. "You guys are killing me!" I rolled my eyes, shaking my head to look in another direction to demonstrate my refusal to listen. Unfortunately, I was still dancing with Scott, which meant even if I didn't care to listen, I would hear every word that he said. "What I said about the night Stiles got drunk wasn't really true."

"Yeah, Scott, I know. You told me," I snapped, but he shook his head.

"Just listen, okay?" he demanded. "Look, I told you that Stiles didn't think of you that night, that it was me that brought you up. But that's not right. I convinced Stiles to take you because he didn't think of you as an option for formal, but he's the one who brought you up in the first place." As much as I tried to avoid it, my eyes snapped immediately to Scott, betraying my interest. He raised his eyebrows almost challengingly, as if daring me to pretend I wasn't dying to know what had happened. I bit my lip, trying to feign disinterest for a few more seconds before I caved.

"Fine," I huffed. "What did he say?"

"Well, he was talking about Lydia," Scott admitted. "All the usual stuff he rants about, her hair, her eyes or whatever. And I kinda just tuned him out until he started talking about how nice she was."

"Why is that weird?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. Scott gave me a pointed look.

"I know you're friends with her, but Lydia's never exactly been _nice_ to us. There's a lot of qualities she's got that Stiles used to point out, but being nice is not once of them."

"Okay, so why was he doing it?" I asked, feeling tired and confused.

"I didn't know either for a while," he agreed, before hurrying on. "And then he was talking about how funny she was, and how smart she was, like actually smart, not just good at school. And then it was all how brave she was and how she liked all the same things he liked, and how awesome it was when she talked about comic books or how he literally thought he was gonna pass out and die when she backed him up against the wall."

"What?" I asked in confusion, maybe even a tinge of horror.

"Well that's when I got fed up and asked what was going on," Scott informed me. "And when I asked, he was just like, 'I'm talking about Sadie, who were you talking about?'" A shiver seemed to run all the way down my arms, and I nearly stopped moving altogether. Only Scott's hands on my waist kept me up right and in motion.

"Scott," I said in a warning tone, but he shook his head with determination.

"And then we had this whole conversation about how you were really confusing to him because he still liked Lydia, and he didn't think you were an option anyway because you're our friend," he said quickly, the words tumbling out of his mouth almost faster than I could comprehend them. "And Stiles has this whole weird philosophy about how hanging out with hot girls is like death, because then they can't see you as anything more than a friend, and you had just come over to play video games the night before, and I had to talk to him forever to get him to ask you to formal because I knew that you liked him, and then when he called you he started talking about Lydia and I hit him…"

"Yeah," I breathed, staring at Scott's tie. "I know. I heard it."

"Then you know!" he cheered happily. "He wasn't supposed to be thinking about Lydia. He was supposed to try and ask you to be his _date_."

"But he didn't," I replied quietly.

"What?" Scott asked.

"He didn't ask me as his date," I repeated. "You keep going on about all this 'drunk words are sober thoughts' crap, but when it came down to it, he still couldn't see me as more than a friend."

"But not because he doesn't like you!" Scott argued, looking almost enraged by my resistance to the fact. "It's just because he's too stupid to think you'll like him back! You both are!"

"Scott," I sighed, "Stiles and I aren't in the same situation. He may find me attractive—and that's great, really. Thank you—but it doesn't change the fact that he'd rather be with Lydia. I didn't force him to go to the dance with her. He chose her and that's all there is to it. That's fine." Scott's nostrils actually flared with anger as he let out a huff of air through his nose.

"But it's not!" he insisted. "You can't see it because you didn't know him before. But it's like he's going through the motions or something. Liking Lydia is all he's ever done, and I think it's hard for him to realize that he doesn't anymore." Before I could come up with a response, the song we'd been dancing to ended, changing into a livelier, upbeat song. I promptly dropped my hands from Scott's shoulders, making him frown. "Sadie, just please think about it," he begged.

"Trust me," I grumbled. "Unfortunately you've made it very hard to think about anything else." Scott smiled sadly, happy I'd inadvertently agreed to think it over, but clearly upset I seemed to be in such a bad mood. I pushed him away. "Now go on. Go get your girl."

"Are you gonna be okay?" he asked, and I nodded, plastering a smile on my face.

"Yeah. You got your one dance, and you've got your own love life to worry about." I tousled his mop of brown hair once more, making him groan as he smacked my hands away.

"Please stop doing that!" he whined, trying to flatten it once more. I rolled my eyes, taking him by the shoulders and physically pushing him over to where Allison was standing.

"Now, shoo, both of you," I ordered. I personally linked their arms and shoved them towards the dance floor, making them both laugh quietly in embarrassment, stealing glances at each other when they thought no one was looking. I grinned. At least someone's night was going according to plan.

I stole a glance across the dance floor to see that Stiles was still dancing with Lydia. I didn't pause to observe them too long though. Instead, I turned on my heel and walked back up towards the bleachers, retrieving my purse from under the bench. Having no need to stay so high up, though, I decided to relocate to a seat on the first level where I would be able to keep my feet firmly planted on the gym floor. This way I wouldn't have to navigate the stairs if there was any trouble. Unfortunately, the first tiers of bleachers seemed to be the most common place for people to sit. Finally, I spotted a fairly large empty space surrounding a pretty blonde girl in the first row.

"Hey," I greeted tentatively, walking up to her. "Do you mind if I sit here?" The girl raised her head slowly, as if she wasn't expecting to be addressed, peering up from underneath a slightly frizzy portion of blonde bangs. The rest of her hair had been brushed back into an intricate braid down her back, tied off with a blue bow that matched her dress perfectly. Her light brown eyes stared inquisitively up at me, expertly framed with black eyeliner and light brown shadow. Her makeup had been almost caked on in an attempt to hide the still-visible acne scars, but the redness in her face was slightly lessened by the shocking blue dress. I grinned, trying to ease the almost terrified look she had about her. "I don't have to if you'd rather…"

"No, no," she objected quickly, her voice thin and almost squeaky. "It's fine. Here." She shifted slightly to her left, giving me more than enough room to sit down next to her. I smiled gratefully.

"Thanks," I sighed, collapsing onto the bench and reaching down to adjust my shoes. "These pumps are absolutely killing me."

"There look really nice," she offered, her hands fidgeting in her lap, picking at the blue nail polish coating the tips of her fingers.

"Thank you," I repeated with a chirp. "They say beauty is pain, I guess. I hope your dress is comfortable though, cause it's gorgeous." The girl's mouth opened or closed once or twice, eyes slightly wide.

"Oh, um… Thanks."

"I'm Sadie Bennet," I offered, holding out a hand. She stared at it for a moment before accepting it feebly.

"Erica Reyes," she replied meekly.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Erica," I conceded with a nod.

"Oh, well uh… Actually we're… I'm in your chemistry class." The smiled instantly slid off my face and turned to a grimace.

"Oh my God, I am so sorry," I apologized, wincing my eyes shut.

"Oh, no, it's fine," she assured me, sounding like she was honestly not offended. "I mean, you sit up front with Lydia Martin, and I sit all the way in the back. Harris kind of freaks me out."

"I'm pretty sure Harris freaks his own mother out," I assured her. Erica laughed, a gently tinkling one that sounded genuine despite its low volume. I grinned looking down at my lap and absentmindedly fixing my father's dog tags and Stiles's corsage. I compulsively checked inside my purse, reassuring myself that the taser was still there and my phone was free of panicked warning messages.

"Hey, um…" Erica's voice made me wrench my hand out of my purse on instinct. I wasn't really in the mood to explain why I had a taser in my formal purse without a permit. I looked over at the wide with wide, expectant eyes. She was picking at her nail polish again, shoulders hunched slightly forward and feet tapping anxiously at the floor as she debated what to say. "Can… Can I ask you a question?"

"Uh, sure," I replied simply, trying not to raise my eyebrows at the curious question. Erica glanced around, staring at the dance floor for a few seconds before she mustered up the courage to continue.

"You're…friends with Stiles, right?" My mouth involuntarily went dry at the mention of his name, and I followed her line of sight to see that Stiles's back was to us, still on the dance floor with his date. They didn't seem to be doing much dancing anymore though. Lydia still had her arms around his neck, but it looked like they were having an actual conversation for once. I wanted to smile, glad they were getting along, but my lips didn't seem to want to cooperate.

"Um…yeah…" I replied quietly, shrugging my shoulders slightly. I reached for the corsage on my wrist, letting the pads of my fingers trace over the swirling tips of the petals. Erica nodded, evidently already sure about that piece of information.

"Do you know why he's here with Lydia Martin?" she asked quietly, as if just mentioning the queen bee's name would call her over to exact a terrible fury on us. I sighed, looking down at my shoes once more.

"I guess that'd be because of me," I admitted. "Lydia owed a friend a favor, that friend owed me a favor. It's a long story, but I just pulled a few strings to make her go with him, since he likes her so much."

"Oh," Erica nodded, sounding almost relieved. "So they're not like…here together? Like, _together_ together?"

"No," I assured her, shaking my head at my lap. "Definitely not."

"Oh, good," Erica muttered. This time I didn't let the relief slip. I looked over at her, letting my hair fall over my shoulder as I rested my head on one hand and propped my elbow on my knee. At my inquisitive gaze, Erica began to flush. "O-Oh, b-because I just really don't think Lydia's good for him," she covered immediately. "I mean, Stiles is just really sweet and awkward and funny and she's never been nice to him ever before now. Oh God, no, sorry she's your friend. I just…"

"Hey, it's fine," I cut her off, before she could babble herself into an even more embarrassing imagination. "I know she's kind of abrasive, but I know she can be an amazing person too. And Stiles is great enough that he deserved to get his chance, even if it doesn't work out." Erica nodded reluctantly, understanding the logic though she didn't want to agree with the actual plan. She opened her mouth once or twice, and I braced myself for another question when she returned to peeling the polish off her nails.

"Is it true that you…you were supposed to be his date?" she asked timidly. I smiled wryly.

"Why is it that everyone seems to know I was supposed to come to this thing with Stiles?"

"I sit behind him in chemistry," she informed my promptly, then almost immediately began backpedaling. "N-Not that I was listening or anything, but Stiles isn't that good at whispering and that's not the only class I have with him and he's brought it up in conversation with people more than once." She took a deep breath when she felt that she'd adequately defended herself, nodding slightly as she mentally checked the story for plot holes. I sent her a small smile.

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with listening in on a cute guy's formal plans," I jabbed lightly. Erica flushed but didn't dispute the statement. I hadn't wanted to directly call her out on it, but it was clear that Erica had a crush on the same pale, twitchy, brown-eyed boy that I did. That made me almost happy, in a way. Stiles may have been oblivious, but at least I wasn't the only person around who saw him for what he was worth. I was just lucky that I was also in the position to talk to him on a regular basis.

"So, were you guys supposed to go as…you know, actual dates?" Erica asked, and I was pleasantly surprised that her voice held no edge. There was no caution, as if she were expecting to despise the answer I would give her, no threatening or would-be-casual tone. It was just an honest question. Erica and I were, for the moment, both in the same boat when it came to liking Stiles, and that meant there was no real need for animosity.

"No," I replied on instinct, but the word was slightly swallowed at the end as I looked up to see Scott and Allison dancing with each other.

As far as I was concerned, Stiles and I were always intending to go as friends, whether it was something that both of us wanted or not. However, Scott seemed to be under the impression that when Stiles had first set out to call me, it had been to ask me as a date. But this was Scott we were talking about. Puppy-dog Scott who always tried to see the best in people and look on the bright side of any situation. I had no idea how reliable his word was, not because he would lie but because his mind could have simply distorted the situation. Even if it were the truth, Stiles could have lied and told Scott he'd ask me as a date just to get him off his back. The fact was that no one knew what Stiles was thinking in that moment—including Stiles probably, as he'd been drunk out of his mind.

"Maybe," I amended with a tormented sigh. "Honestly, I don't even know what's happening anymore." Erica gave me a sympathetic smile.

"Well, I don't know if it'll make you feel better or not," she consoled, "but even I wish he came with you instead of Lydia." I chuckled wryly, going to run a hand through my hair before I remembered it was all pinned securely on my head.

"It does a bit," I conceded, settling for patting my hair and pulling my dress up a bit. I looked around the room once more, expecting to just pass the time until Erica or I could think of something slightly less depressing to talk about. Instead, when I looked over towards the door, I spotted Isaac.

He was shuffling into the gym with his head down, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. He peered at the crowd of people through his lashes and loose curls, which he'd only attempted to brush as preparation. His suit was a dingy tan, clearly second hand and hanging awkwardly in some places. His pants were slightly too short, leaving his black dress socks exposed and visible even from a distance. He tugged on the pale blue cuffs of his button down shirt, which were peeking out from underneath the too-short sleeves of his jacket, and attempted to straighten the royal blue tie that was twisted around his neck. Despite his disheveled appearance, I immediately grinned.

"Hey, I'll be right back," I informed Erica. I dropped my purse on my seat as I stood up, a reassuring sign that I wasn't actually abandoning her, and then dashed over to the end of the bleachers where Isaac was still shifting on his feet. "Isaac! Hey!"

"Oh!" He jumped slightly as I barreled over to him. I'd almost had to yell over the music, but even amongst all the noise, my raised voice seemed to have frightened him. "H-Hi, Sadie." He still sounded nervous, but I could see him visibly relax when he realized it was me. His broad shoulders were suddenly less tense and he stood up a little straighter, bloodied lips pulling up into a smile.

"Oh my God," I gasped, taking a step closer to him and lifting my hands. It took everything I had not to just grab his head for a better look at his split lip, but I forced myself to cover my mouth instead. His smile slipped slightly as I noticed the injury, wincing either because he was hoping I wouldn't bring it up or because smiling had made the cut sting. Upon closer inspection, I noted he also had a black eye, and the opposite eyebrow had a cut in it. "Isaac, what happened?" I breathed through my hands.

"I-It's nothing," he mumbled, hands nervously trying to flatten his curls over his injured eyes. "I just…"

"Fell?" I finished skeptically, pursing my lips. Isaac glanced up at me through his eyelashes looking slightly ashamed, but also pleading.

"Yeah," he replied, barely louder than a whisper. "I fell again." I closed my eyes tightly for a moment. I couldn't get mad at Isaac, not for something that was so clearly not his fault. It wasn't the first time I'd run into him while he was sporting visible injuries, and it wasn't the first time I asked about them. But every time I received the same answer—"I fell." The fact that Isaac wouldn't tell me what was going on had been driving me insane. I knew that he had no real reason to trust me though, and he was so shy that it was hard enough to have a normal conversation with him, let alone get him to open up. I'd tried to show him that I was only trying to help, but with all of the werewolf drama in Beacon Hills, I'd probably fallen short in that department too. I crossed my arms over my chest, taking a frustrated breath and ripping my eyes away from his bruises.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" I asked, still not looking at him. Out of the corner of my eye, though, I saw him lift his head slightly to look at me.

"N-No," he answered after a moment, grateful that I wasn't pressing the subject. "No, it'll heal. Thanks, though." I nodded firmly, still not sure how I should proceed. Thankfully, Isaac decided for me. He cleared his throat, running his fingers through his dirty blonde hair. "Y-You look really pretty," he complimented in a shaky voice. I smiled, closing my eyes for a moment before I looked back at him.

"Thanks," I replied, shaking my head in slight wonder as to how he'd been able to change the subject so easily. "You too."

"I'm pretty?" he chuckled. My smile widened, and I raised my eyebrows at the joke. Joking was something I rarely got Isaac to do, let alone do first.

"Okay, you're right, sorry. Maybe not pretty," I laughed. "But you certainly look good in a suit." Isaac smiled and ducked his head again, hand moving from his hair to rub at the back of his neck. I tried my best to ignore the scratches on the back of his hand. "I'm really glad you made it," I said earnestly, before holding out my hand. Isaac looked between my face and hand with a panicked expression.

"O-Oh no," he replied quickly. "I…I—I don't…"

"We're not dancing," I promised. I was surprised enough that Isaac had actually decided to come to the dance, considering his obvious anxiety about crowds of people. I wasn't planning on making him any more uncomfortable by dragging him kicking and screaming into the mob. "I just want you to meet my friend." Isaac slowly lowered his hand from his neck, blue eyes staring at me timidly. I nodded encouragingly, and after a few seconds he tentatively reached out and took my hand. His palm was warm and hesitant in my grasp, as if he were about to drop my hand and run at any moment. Thankfully he didn't, but knowing he was uncomfortable with the contact I promptly dropped his hand as soon as we'd reached the bleachers. "Isaac, this is Erica Reyes. Erica, this is my friend Isaac Lahey." They both waved tentatively at each other, smiling shyly. I reclaimed my seat next to Erica while Isaac perched himself awkwardly next to me.

I probably should have realized that considering the fact that Isaac and Erica were both so shy, and the fact that neither of them knew each other, making conversation was bound to be like pulling teeth. Most of the small talk that followed was led by me, about anything I could think of—chemistry, lacrosse, Christmas, teachers, the last song that played. Eventually, Erica warmed up and was able to carry on a fairly normal conversation. Isaac was much quieter, but he was speaking at least. Finally, he was smiling too, and making some jokes about boys on the lacrosse team that made Erica giggle until she snorted. She'd been mortified at first, and we'd fallen into immediate silence before I burst out laughing, making Isaac and Erica laugh as well.

We managed to make it a pretty long time before the topic of dates came up. Erica and Isaac had both come unattached, Isaac completely alone and Erica as the third wheel on one of her friend's dates. I got the feeling that they couldn't be too close though, seeing as her friend was nowhere in sight and Erica seemed to be sitting alone for a long while before I showed up. We spotted Scott, still on the dance floor with Allison where they were making goo-goo eyes at each other. Even during upbeat songs her arms remained around his neck, and I wondered whether or not he'd gotten up the courage to confess his feelings yet. Allison was obviously making no effort to hide her feelings for him, anyway. Jackson seemed to have vanished into thin air, but he was probably too drunk at this point to have wandered too far. And Stiles…

"Actually, I don't see Stiles and Lydia anywhere," I commented, straining my neck to see if I could spot them in the crowd of couples on the dance floor. They'd disappeared form their long occupied place from earlier, and I didn't see champagne pink or flailing arms at all.

"I do," Erica observed, her voice uncharacteristically sly. I looked over to her, but she was looking right past me. Isaac and I both followed her gaze to see Lydia and Stiles standing a good distance from the dance floor, apparently in the middle of a heated discussion. At least, Lydia seemed to be snapping at him while Stiles remained mostly sheepish. I sighed at the sight. I should have known Lydia wouldn't be able to play nice with him for a whole night.

"I should probably go break it up," I groaned, blowing the curl hanging down the side of my face out of the way.

"Uh, I don't think you have to," Isaac replied. I looked up once more to see that Lydia had grabbed Stiles's shoulders and was spinning him around…exactly in our direction. I quickly ducked my head, turning to Erica.

"What the hell is she doing?" I hissed. Erica managed to look just as nervous as I felt, instead of amused as she had before. But Isaac answered me instead.

"Well, right now she's pushing him over here," he informed me. I winced, fingers pulling absently at the bottom of my dress.

"What do I do?" I groaned.

"Go talk to him," Erica advised in a high voice.

"What?!" I snapped. She almost rolled her eyes.

"Look, it's this or he goes back to dancing with Lydia. Do us both a favor and go talk to him." I pursed my lips, glancing over to Stiles. He was approaching slowly, wiping his hands down the front of his slacks as he went, but he was already a good distance from Lydia, who was standing smugly with her arms crossed over her chest as she watched his progress. I looked back and forth between Erica and Isaac for a moment.

"Will you guys be okay if I go?"

"Fine," Erica assured me with a bittersweet smile. "Go." I turned to Isaac, raising my eyebrows in question.

"Y-Yeah," he agreed. "We'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" I asked again. Erica leaned over, snatching my purse out of my hand as a response. I sighed, nodding slightly before I stood up. I smoothed out my dress, ran a hand over my hair and sent them a thumbs-up before turning to the bulk of the room. Stiles stopped walking as soon as he'd realized I'd spotted him. Instead, I met him half way, hands clasped in front of me as I tried to casually wander up to him. "Hey," I greeted, shrugging my shoulders a little bit.

"Hi!" he replied loudly. He coughed slightly when he realized his intense volume, then tried again. "Um, yeah, hey… What's up?"

"Not much," I replied, narrowing my eyes slightly. "Just uh, making friends. I was talking to Erica Reyes and Isaac Lahey." Stiles glanced over my shoulder, jerking his head acknowledgement, which I assumed meant that Isaac and Erica were both watching us. Lydia was as well, I noticed as I glanced behind Stiles. Instead of nodding at her though, I decided to glare.

"Oh, that's cool. Cool," Stiles replied, nodding his head enthusiastically. He was glancing around the gym, the lights, the dance floor, the bleachers, anywhere but my face.

"Having fun with Lydia?" I pressed when he made no move to break the silence.

"Hm?" he hummed in confusion. "Oh! Uh, yeah. Yeah, she uh… Well, we were dancing but then she decided she didn't really want to any more so uh…"

"Do you want me to talk to her?" I asked. "I mean, it's kinda of rude for her to just say she's tired and ditch you like that. I can just…"

"No!" Stiles cut me off, finally looking me in the eye. "No, she didn't… It's not… It wasn't like that…" He trailed off, staring at me with his eyebrows knitted together slightly. He opened his mouth once or twice, but then left it hanging slightly open, apparently unable to think of anything to say.

"Stiles…?" I prompted, unnerved by his complete stillness. He blinked out of his trance, glancing to the dance floor again and then running a hand over his hair as he winced. Then he took a deep breath and turned back to me.

"Do you wanna dance?" he blurted. I tried to keep my eyebrows from shooting upwards, but I was fairly certain I'd failed miserably.

"What?" I deadpanned.

"Dance," he repeated firmly. "Dance with me. I think I owe you at least one dance since you were supposed to be my date." The phrase bounced around inside my head. Was he talking about how we had originally planned on going as friends? Or was he referencing Scott's crazy idea that I was actually supposed to be his _date_? I just continued to stare at him questioningly, completely at a loss for what I was supposed to do. My brain was screaming for me to say yes, but my mouth didn't want to cooperate. Much like in my dream, my feet seemed to be glued to the floor, refusing to respond to any command my brain issued. After a few seconds of silence, Stiles offered me his hand. "Come on, Bennet," he urged. "It'll be fun." My eyes looked back and forth between his hand and those maple brown eyes, which fleetingly looked violet under the panning of the party lights.

"Better be, Stilinski," I jabbed when I'd found my voice. I accepted his hand, making him grin in response to my smirk, and then he led me away into the crowd of dancers.

* * *

**A/N: I KNOW YOU HATE ME AND I AM LITERALLY SO SORRY. This one and the next chapter were supposed to be one, but it just got too damn long. I didn't want to throw so much at you at once. I'm hoping to get 31 up tomorrow or the day after. I promise, no four day wait. I'm entirely too anxious to post it to wait that long.**

**So! This chapter! A lovely cameo by Ashlea, and the introduction of Miss Erica Reyes. Also, Sarah finally got some Scadie in that you all now know what happened when Stiles was drunk! Big congrats to all of you, since I wasn't intending on telling you originally, but so many people asked that I decided to put it in.**

**Thank you to all of my lovely favoriters, followers, readers and reviewers. Thank you to LoveLiveLife22, GetsueiNoYume, SimplyKelly, TameTheGhosts, xALFiex, Alexstarlight18, prettyargents, SammieLuvsFood, TheNewBatgirl, ScornedxRose, Nelle07, A Cool Guest, MS. QUEEN21, Lucy Greenhill, Maddie, kodt4e, GuardianAngel45, LynZann, xxxxninaxxxx, Tarafina, Ihavebadhair, Guest, bbymojo, Isaac fan, Simone140089, enthusiastic-fan-and-reader, Kelly1432, Cassidy, MagicalMemories, Guest, lostintraduction, , DetectiveKateTodd, and LionHeartMisfit as always. You keep my moral up and the chapters coming!**

**Don't forget to check out my profile and/or the tumblr page to see all of the cool things that beautiful people have made for me and this crazy story of mine. I promise I will talk to you all soon! Still sorry about the split. Feel free to yell about how cruel I am.**

**Promise I love you!**

**-Brittney**


	31. Chapter 31

We managed to find a comfortably large space somewhere in the middle of the mob. Stiles dropped my hand, and we both stood awkwardly still for a moment. It wasn't exactly a slow song, so the typical let-me-wrap-my-arms-around-your-neck position was out of the question. However, it was also a song I didn't know, which hindered my ability to dance wildly to it and act out all the different phrases. Instead, I settled for an awkward bobbing motion, tossing my head side to side as I bounced along to the beat. Stiles raised his eyebrows.

"What are you doing?" he asked. I immediately stopped, dropping my arms to my sides once more and pouting.

"Dancing," I replied. Stiles actually laughed.

"That's not dancing," he argued. I narrowed my eyes at him, folding my arms over my chest.

"It's a hell of a lot more than you were doing," I snapped. Stiles grinned like a Cheshire cat, but nodded apologetically.

"Okay, right. Sorry, it's just…" He paused to purse his lips, narrowing his eyes at the floor before he looked up at me once more, seemingly a bit more confident. "I happen to know that you've got a few years of dance experience, and I saw you dancing with Allison before, so I know that's not all you've got."

"All I've got?" I repeated, cocking an eyebrow. Stiles nodded.

"Yeah, Bennet," he taunted. He reached forward, prying my hands loose from my torso and pulling me a bit closer. "So show me what you've got." He pulled his arm around, sending me into a twirl. I giggled at the unexpected motion, following along and forcing him to spin under my arm as soon as I'd stopped. "There you go!" he laughed as he turned. "Now we're getting somewhere!"

The twirling had effectively broken the tension, and after that, Stiles and I were free to act like friendly idiots once more. It was true that I'd taken several dance lessons for a couple years. Ballet didn't really come in handy in situations like this, but hip-hop did. I was perfectly capable of being a very coordinated and impressive dancer. But I soon discovered that while it was funny trying to teach Stiles how to move in an orderly, choreographed manner, it was a lot more fun to pretend that we both had no idea what we were doing. We jumped and twirled and flailed continuously, earning ourselves amused stares and glares from innocent bystanders, but for the moment, neither of us cared. Stiles would occasionally break out an embarrassingly old and clichéd move like the sprinkler or the shopping cart, and I would follow along without missing a beat. A few times, my inner-dancer did get the best of me, and I would momentarily focus on making sure I showed Stiles exactly what I was made of. This generally ended comically, as Stiles would either slow to a halt as he watched me with a confused and impressed gaze, or try and copy my movements and end up tripping over his own feet. I'd stand and laugh until he stopped his fake pouting, glaring playfully and spinning me back into motion with another twirl or the like. During songs that we both knew, we'd screech the lyrics at each other, jumping around like maniacs. There were a few songs I knew that he didn't, but Stiles would just play along, taking a guess at the words and making it up as he went. It was during the few songs that only he knew that I noticed just how into the music he was. He head banged and beat his invisible drum, played air guitar and belted out all of the lyrics with his face screwed up in concentration and passion. It was adorable.

I actually squealed when I recognized the beginning notes of the next song, causing Stiles to jump back in surprise and alarm.

"I love this song!" I shouted, already bouncing up and down in time to the beat.

"Really?" Stiles called back over the music. "Never woulda guessed!" I glared playfully at him, shoving his shoulder slightly before closing my eyes to concentrate on enjoying the music.

_"I hear your heart beat to the beat of the drums  
Oh what a shame that you came here with someone  
So while you're here in my arms  
Let's make the most of the night like we're gonna die young…"_

I belted the lyrics for all I was worth, only opening my eyes once the lyrics had stopped and the bass had dropped once more. Stiles was watching me with a small smirk, an expression I could only think to describe as fond amusement. I grabbed at his arm, forcing him to jump along with me as the song played through the verse. I threw my head back and forth, hair flying in all directions with a wide smile on my face. I closed my eyes briefly again, trying to focus on the lyrics instead of the way Stiles's hands felt in my own.

_"Looking for some trouble tonight  
Take my hand, I'll show you the wild side  
Like it's the last night of our lives  
We'll keep dancin' 'til we die…"_

My bouncing slowed to a complete halt as the words replayed in my head, though the song played on. Stiles's head snapped toward me in concern. For that moment, it actually sunk in how dangerous our lives had become. Stiles and I were dancing together at a school party, sure, but there was a giant monster in town intent on killing people. A monster that wanted the assistance of our friend, and was planning to threaten everyone he loved in an effort to get him to cooperate. On top of protecting them, we also had to protect Scott from hunters, or getting himself killed trying to fight the alpha. I knew that Stiles and I would do everything we could to keep people safe, to keep our friends and families safe, but that meant putting ourselves in extreme amounts of danger. There was every reason to believe that I would die, that Stiles would die. And judging by what Peter and Kate had both said to me, there was a good chance it could be that night.

Within a second of looking at me, Stiles seemed to sense the thoughts running through my head. His gaze softened to one of solemn understanding, and he gripped my hands with a reassuring squeeze. I just continued to look ahead, incapable of halting my train of thought. Stiles stepped closer, moving directly into my line of sight so I was forced to blink rapidly and focus on him instead.

_"Let's make the most of the night like we're gonna die young…"_

He encouraged me along with the music, his own voice low and soothing as he sang almost under his breath. He twisted his torso, pumping his arms back and forth in an attempt to make me dance once more. That eventually coaxed a smile out of me, and I gave a feeble nod, adding my own force to the motion. I'd known about the danger from the beginning, and I wasn't going to dwell on the soul-crushing fear now. We were as prepared as we were going to be, so all that was left was to enjoy the last shreds of normality before the battle began.

_"Let's make the most of the night like we're gonna die young…"_

Stiles sent me into another spin with a smile, glad to see that the wave of panic had passed. Unfortunately, a new, completely different kind of panic washed over me as the song ran into the second verse.

_"Music up, gettin' hot  
Kiss me, give me all you've got  
It's pretty obvious that you've got a crush  
That magic in your pants is makin' me blush…"_

I kept my eyes closed for the whole thing, sure that my face was turning as red as my dress and completely incapable of even glancing at Stiles. I didn't want to know if he was oblivious to the tension, or if his cheeks were splotchy like the usually were when he was embarrassed, or if his caramel eyes were narrowed at me suspiciously. I just kept jumping and singing, keeping my head ducked so that my hair could wave in front of my face and hide my blush.

The background music cut out momentarily, leaving only the lyrics echoing around the gym. I looked back up at Stiles, both of us temporarily still and staring at each other as we sang along breathlessly.

_"I hear your heart beat to the beat of the drums  
Oh what a shame that you came here with someone  
So while you're here in my arms  
Let's make the most of the night like we're gonna die young…"_

We let the lyrics sink in as we stood there, completely immobile in a crowd of writhing bodies. I couldn't imagine a more fitting song for the moment, though admittedly that might have been because my brain seemed to be completely frozen. The song ended and the music was silenced, replaced by the cheers of our classmates all around us. Stiles and I broke out of our trance, clapping politely, if shiftily, along with our peers. I sighed with a shaky smile, brushing my hair out of my face.

"Well that was uncomfortably appropriate," I commented, looking up around the ceiling so I could avoid Stiles's face.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Well…irony is literally your favorite of all literary devices, right?" I finally met his gaze, my lips parted slightly in a soft, amazed smile. Was he seriously quoting my exact phrasing from the day I'd pushed my way into this whole mess?

Any response I might have formed was cut off by the beginning of the next song, a soft mellow tune that cued all the couples around us to move closer in a tight embrace. I ducked my head, just about ready to sprint off the dance floor because I felt so light headed. But before I could escape, Stiles grabbed my hand. We looked at each other hesitantly for a moment before he slowly pulled me closer, as if he were waiting for me to stop him. But I didn't. There was a good chance one or both of us was going to get hurt tonight, maybe even die, so why shouldn't I enjoy this time for a bit? Even if nothing came of it, when Stiles still chose Lydia at the end of the day, I'd be able to remember this and imagine what might have happened instead.

I reached up to wrap my arms around his neck, blush creeping into my cheeks as I remembered that this was exactly what had happened in my dream. But Stiles didn't kiss me. Instead, he stiffened for a moment before moving his hands to my waist. My breath caught in my throat as his hands slid lightly over my dress, palms radiating heat through the fabric before coming to a halt on my lower back. We stared at each other until Stiles took initiative, rocking back and forth on his feet and making us sway.

After a few seconds, it all seemed to be too much. I needed to be closer, and I wanted to run away. I wanted to stare into those beautiful brown eyes flecked with the neon colors of the lights forever, but I also felt like I couldn't stand to see them for another second, otherwise I might explode. My skin tingled all over, except where he held me, which felt like searing fire. I was acutely aware of the pressure, how he was holding me securely, but also trying not to touch me at all, and I was moving marginally closer to him with every sway. My cheeks felt almost numb from blushing, my senses becoming blurrier the longer I stared into his face.

I dealt with the pain for an entire verse before the silence got to me. I took a step forward, making Stiles's eyes widen fractionally. I moved one arm down to his shoulder, laying my hand flat against his back and pressing myself close enough that I could rest the side of my head against his shoulder. My eyes traced over the constellation of moles on the side of his face, and then they fluttered shut, breaking my view of the boy and letting me concentrate fully on exactly how it felt to dance with him. I tried my hardest to control my breathing, as ever intake of breath pushed my chest into his. But while I could slow my lungs down by counting in my head and breathing through my nose, I had absolutely no control of my heart, which was pounding away in my chest. I wouldn't have been surprised if Stiles _could_ hear it, of at the very least feel it pulsing against his shirt. But if he noticed, he didn't point it out. We just continued to sway in silence. It wasn't until the first chorus had ended that he actually spoke up.

"Thank you," he said softly. The words made his chest vibrate slightly under my cheek, and I tried to discreetly press my nose into the fabric. He smelled less like curly fries now, there was more cologne and soap, but the scent was still indescribably Stiles.

"For what?" I asked, keeping my eyes firmly shut. He let out a single breathy laugh, making his chest puff out slightly with a jolt.

"Everything," he replied. "Anything." My eyes fluttered open, but I still couldn't bring myself to look at his face. I was far too close.

"Like what?" I addressed his tie. He sighed, tightening his arms around my figure.

"I don't know," he admitted, shaking his head a bit. "Like being so okay with all this werewolf stuff. For continually saving my ass. For helping me comfort Scott and never taking sides. Just being you. Thanks for being human, I guess." This time I was the one letting out a small breath of laughter.

"Stiles, if you're gonna be thanking people for being human, you might be at it for a while," I jabbed quietly, lifting my head a fraction of an inch.

"No, no. It's not that." Stiles's thumbs pressed gently into my sides as he pulled me off his shoulder. He wasn't forcing me away from him—we were actually still incredibly close—but in front of him, at least enough that I had to look him in the face. He wasn't laughing anymore. He had a serious, contemplative face on as he stared into space, down around my collarbone. I furrowed my eyebrows slightly, not sure where the conversation was going. Finally he took a deep breath. "Scott's my best friend. He's really like, one of my only friends. It always just used to be the two of us, you know? And then… And then he got bit and this whole mess got started and I was researching werewolves and being threatened by suspected murderers and… I just don't know how things would have turned out if you were never there to help."

"Well, you guys seemed to be handling it fine before I forced myself into your duo," I assured him, narrowing my eyes in concern. But Stiles only smiled without humor.

"Maybe for Scott. But I wasn't." He shook his head slightly, his eyes still unfocused. "It was just like—like suddenly everyone around me was some sort of mythical creature. Everything I was doing had to do with werewolves and—and my whole world was flipped upside down. Scott was faster and more popular and he was with Allison and he was trying to kill me, and we kept getting involved with Derek, who honestly scares the living crap out of me, and I couldn't tell my dad about any of it, even when all this weird stuff was happening and I—I was literally going out of my mind." I watched him ramble with sympathy. He clearly had loads that he needed to get off his chest, things he couldn't talk to his father or his best friend about. Then his eyes snapped back into focus and he looked back up to me. "And then you and Lydia got attacked and it was the worst because I wanted to tell you so bad, even just so someone would listen to me, but I couldn't because it was Scott's secret and I was just this random human mixed up with a bunch of werewolves. But when I told you everything and you listened and you believed me? God, it was like…it was like I could finally breath again. Just talking to you and knowing that I'm not the only person who knows about this and isn't some weirdly powerful or trained person is just… Sometimes I feel like you're the only thing keeping me sane." He finished with a short sigh, still shaking his head slightly. We stared at each other for a few seconds, simply letting the words hang in the air. Finally I was able to find my voice once more.

"Well, it's been my pleasure," I whispered, voice catching slightly in my throat as I attempted to smile. "And thank you for trusting me enough to talk to me, and always trying to make sure I'm okay." He nodded with a miniscule smile, accepting the praise that was not nearly as much as he deserved, but all I could manage to give at the moment. We were still dancing, swaying back and forth more out of habit and moment than actual intent. We both seemed to be completely focused on each other. Stiles blinked, his long lashes brushing against his cheeks as he glanced down and then back up to my face again.

"I didn't get to tell you how great you look," he commented in a small voice. I smirked.

"Yes you did," I reminded him. "I believe you said I looked 'yeah.'" Stiles didn't reply at first, but my stomach fluttered as a slow smile grew on his face and his eyes bore into mine.

"You look beautiful."

The smile immediately slid right off my face, replaced with a slack look of astonishment. My chest burned, and I was fairly certain that I wasn't breathing. I wasn't blinking either, and my eyes stung from being dry, but I couldn't correct it. Those three words seemed to have rendered my body completely motionless. I wanted to reply, but my mouth wouldn't move, and I was sure that if I didn't do something soon, Stiles would assume that I was displeased rather than terrified. But instead, he seemed to take my stunned silence as a good sign. He smiled a little wider, ducking his head again and looking at me from underneath those impossibly long lashes. His arms tightened a little more around my waist, and suddenly I found my voice.

"Lydia," I blurted. Stiles lifted his head and pulled back slightly, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

"What?"

"Lydia," I repeated. "Y-You came here with Lydia. I made sure you came here with Lydia."

"Um, yeah?" he replied, narrowing his eyes even further. "I don't know…"

"N-No," I cut him off, wincing in frustration. "I mean, I made sure you got to come with Lydia. She didn't want to come with you but she did because I asked her to and because Allison asked her to, but Allison didn't want her to go with you either but she owed me so I made her make Lydia take you and…"

"Woah, woah," Stiles interrupted, shaking his head slightly. "Y-You set this whole thing up?"

"Yes!" I squeaked. "B-Because we were just going as friends and then when Lydia and Jackson broke up you were so excited, and you kept talking about what dresses she should get and how you wanted her to notice you, and I figured you didn't want to go with me even if I wanted to go with you, so I got Allison to make Lydia go with you because you've liked her for so long and—and I thought that you at least deserved to get your chance because you're just so sweet and Lydia…Lydia's everything you've ever wanted…" I finally managed to shut my mouth after that. I stared into his face almost in horror. Of all the times for word vomit to take over, it had to be while I was slow dancing with Stiles. I never intended on telling him that I'd been the one to set up the date with Lydia. It's not like he didn't know Lydia had been forced into it, but I wasn't sure how he was going to react knowing that both girls had been doing a favor to me. Had I made it sound like I was just trying to get out of the date with him? I tried to think over the words that had just tumbled out of my mouth, but my memory of them was jumbled and fuzzy. I'd been talking too fast to actually realize what I was saying.

Stiles looked more astonished than angry though. He was just openly staring at me, his eyebrows slightly tugged together, eyelashes fluttering as he blinked rapidly in confusion. His mouth was agape, pink lips slightly parted as his tongue ran over them. _No. Don't look at his mouth. Stop._ I tried to focus on the maple irises, darting rapidly over my face, and the look of confusion that was slowly changing to realization, to determination. Stiles closed his mouth, lips tugging instead into an admittedly confused but pleased smile.

"Not everything," he whispered. He lifted one hand from my back, brushing away the curl that was straying down the side of my face. Now I was definitely not breathing. Stiles fingers grazed my ear as he tucked the hair away, grazed down my jawline, brushed my cheek. My throat closed up, my body froze, terrified that if I made a movement—any movement—he would stop. And more than anything in that moment, I did not want Stiles to stop.

We had stopped dancing. My hands were still on his shoulders, and I was standing too far from him for my own liking. I'd backed up a fraction during my rant, and our chests were no longer touching. But Stiles didn't seem too concerned about that particular predicament at the moment. He lifted his other hand from my waist, making my stomach lurch with displeasure at the loss of contact and the frightfully cold feeling it left on my back. I was sated when he moved that hand to the side of my neck, soft pressure tilting my head just slightly in his direction. My mind was racing, but it also seemed to be stuck. I felt like there was a CD skipping in my head, spinning faster than imaginable but only playing the same line over and over again.

_"He's going to kiss me. He's going to kiss me. He's going to kiss me."_

My eyes strayed to his lips again, transfixed as his tongue slid over the sensitive skin once more. I forced myself to look up to his eyes, abashed, but Stiles was looking at my mouth too. His eyes shot up to see I was watching him, to see how close we'd suddenly gotten without realizing it. I could feel his breath on my face, warm and fresh yet still decidedly reminiscent of curly fries. How soon should I close my eyes? Or did I wait for him to kiss me first? Our noses were almost touching now, and his lips moved in a shape that looked like my name but made no sound. My eyes fluttered shut of their own accord, based on pure instinct.

_"He's going to kiss me. He's going to kiss me. He's going to kiss me."_

And then suddenly I was knocked off my feet. Stiles quickly grabbed at my shoulders, keeping me upright while I tried to recover.

"Woah, you—you okay?" he asked. I moved to answer that I was fine, but turning around to see who had bumped into me made my breath catch in my throat.

"Whoopsie! Sorry!" some drunken girl giggled, continuing to stagger her way across the dance floor to her group of friends. But my eyes had slid past her to the edge of the dance floor. Lydia was standing there, hands balled up into fists in front of her as if she'd been watching her favorite player seconds from a touchdown. She looked positively murderous now though, jaw open and glaring at whatever bottle blonde had interrupted her show. But I wasn't looking at Lydia either. Because standing right behind her, entirely too close for comfort, was Peter Hale. He blended in well enough—black overcoat traded for black slacks and a red button-down, covered by a leather jacket—but his menacing smile made him stand out immediately. And it wasn't just any menacing smile. It was a menacing, knowing smile that was directed at me. Peter raised his eyebrows slightly in acknowledgement, lifting his hand as if to slash my friend's throat from behind.

"No," I managed to gasp. Stiles was calling me, asking me what was wrong, but his voice sounded like it was on the other end of a long, dark tunnel. I couldn't think. All I knew was that Peter was about to attack my best friend, and I couldn't let it happen.

I was pushing through the crowd of people. A dance beat had started up again, making it hard to move through the mob. I stumbled and elbowed anyone in my way, desperately swimming toward the other side. My eyes stared ahead of me, but my view of Lydia was blocked by all the unsuspecting students swarming between us. It took only a few seconds to reach her, but those few seconds had felt like an entire lifetime.

"Sadie?!" Lydiademanded as the world reached normal speed once more. She was perfectly fine, if a little angry and concerned. "What happened? Are you okay? You were just about to…!" I looked around hurriedly, but I couldn't see Peter anywhere. Then I glanced toward the door to the hallway, just catching the last glimpse of four slim fingers sliding away as they grabbed the door, sharp yellow claws protruding from the tips.

"Lydia, stay here," I ordered, in a voice so strong Lydia actual snapped her mouth shut for a moment.

"What?"

"Stay!" Without an explanation, I ran for the door bursting out into the hallway in pursuit of the Alpha. In retrospect, it was probably a stupid idea. I should have gone to grab Stiles, Scott, even Jackson. But at the moment, the thought of not knowing where exactly Peter was lurking was so terrifying, that it overrode all sense of logic. I ran frantically through the halls, only able to follow Peter by the glimpses I caught of him disappearing behind corners. I knew somewhere in the back of my mind that he was leading me away from the crowd. Peter and Derek both knew how to move so quickly they were practically invisible, and there was no way Peter was moving as quickly as he could now. Even then, the thought didn't deter me. I followed Peter mindlessly through the dark halls and out the back doors of the school.

I spun on the spot when I walked outside. It was so unbelievably dark in the back of the school, no decorative lights to brighten the scene. Even the normal building lights weren't on, leaving the field in eerie darkness. I shivered, wrapping my arms around my torso as my head whipped back and forth. The night was biting cold, and there was a prickling feeling creeping up the back of my neck—the kind that you got when you felt like someone was watching you, or something terrible was about to happen. Or both.

I crept farther into the clearly, cursing myself mentally for not stopping to grab my purse. I'd just run out of the building completely unarmed, chasing after a murderous Alpha werewolf who could kill me as easily as a fly. _"Way to go, Sadie," _I thought to myself. _"Way to go." _I didn't have a gun, I didn't have my taser, and I didn't even have my phone. My only hope currently was that Scott would be able to hear my pounding heartbeat and find me before something went terribly wrong.

"I see you wore the dress I picked out." I jumped about a foot in the air, wheeling around to discover that Peter had appeared in the middle of the field behind me. He was smiling slightly, hands clasped behind his back. I narrowed my eyes. He certainly didn't look like he was getting ready to pounce, but I was sure it wouldn't take him too long to shift and attack. Much less time than it would take me to run to safety, at least. "We even match," he pointed out, tugging slightly on the collar of his red button-down. "I'm touched, Sadie."

"Don't flatter yourself," I spat, cautiously edging towards him. "If it'd been up to me I would've shredded the dress just because you touched it. Lydia made me wear it."

"Ah yes, Lydia," Peter acknowledged, clasping his hands behind his back once more and smiling fondly as he spoke her name. "I must say, you have impeccable taste in friends."

"Then why were you trying to kill her?" I snarled. Peter rolled his eyes slightly.

"Don't be melodramatic, Sadie," he scoffed. "Of course I wasn't trying to kill her. I was just trying to get your attention." He was silent for a few seconds, waiting and watching me as I slowly approached him. He smiled as I came to a stop a good distance away. "I am sorry that I had to interrupt you," he apologized with a knowing smirk. "It looked like you were having such a nice time with your date. Oh, I'm sorry," he amended. "Your _not_-date." He used air quotes around the term, with an air of amused exasperation. That frustrated me almost as much as the fact that Peter had actually interrupted us.

"Stay away from him," I growled, clenching my hands into fists at my sides.

"Of course," Peter conceded easily, nodding his head slightly. "So long as you consider my offer."

"O-Offer?" I repeated after a moment, a chill creeping up my arms and a heave feeling settling in my stomach. Peter tilted his head, giving me a pointed and unimpressed look.

"Yes, Sadie, my offer," he replied flatly.

"What offer?" I asked nervously. Peter raised his eyebrows.

"Come now, Sadie. You're a smart girl. I shouldn't have to spell it out for you." I merely shook my head slightly.

"I…I don't know what you're talking about," I replied, taking a step back from him. But of course, that wasn't necessarily true. Peter's words had sparked a memory, one I wasn't particularly keen on remembering. The last time I'd heard Peter talking about an offer was in my nightmare, when he'd offered to give me the bite. I'd tried to tell myself that it'd just been my insecurities about Stiles. I'd been terrified after my encounter with Peter at the hospital, and my subconscious had mixed that fear with my low self-confidence, creating a scenario in which Peter offered me a way to be stronger and better before attacking me.

But part of me knew that couldn't be the only reason. There was something about Peter that just didn't add up. One of the first things he'd ever said to me was how he'd heard so much about me. He'd told me that he wasn't planning on killing me, or even having Scott kill me, and he'd reinforced his point more than once. When Stiles and I had literally crashed his date with Mrs. McCall, he'd easily given her up, rather than attempting to shake us and get her alone once more. And then there was Peter's strange attitude. How he always seemed to have this casual, non-threatening air, giving me fashion advice and talking about my love life. That was probably the most unsettling thing, how friendly he seemed to be. Peter wanted me alive, and it even seemed like he wanted me alive and happy. But if that were true, if Peter wanted me at all, why would he want me human?

"I think you know exactly what I'm talking about," Peter countered with a smirk. "Otherwise, your heart rate wouldn't have spiked just now." I cringed. Damn all the werewolves and their annoyingly sensitive hearing. Thankfully, my lying didn't seem to anger Peter. Rather he seemed amused, almost sympathetic. "Did you really think Derek was just toying with you for fun?" That comment took me by surprise.

"What?" I asked quickly. "What does this have to do with Derek?" Peter raised his eyebrows again, considering me for a few seconds. This time he didn't seem exasperated by my confusion, but rather intrigued.

"He's protective of you," he explained finally. "And he listens to you. I'm not sure if I can really say that my nephew _likes_ anyone anymore but…he's certainly fond of you."

"It's because I trust him," I dismissed, but that answer didn't seem to be good enough for Peter.

"And why is that?" he pressed, narrowing his eyes. I shook my head slightly and shrugged.

"There wasn't any reason not to." That seemed to be the correct answer, as Peter smirked at me.

"Trust usually doesn't work that way," he informed me. "What you and Derek have is a connection. You're not afraid, to trust him or to stand up to him, and he sees in you the same potential I do." He took a step forward, and I held my ground. "Sadie, you are intelligent, loyal and determined. You have amazing instincts, and while your stubbornness has been a bit of a nuisance for me, your attitude is commendable. Do you have any idea how desirable those qualities are among wolves?" I pursed my lips, staring steadily at him and trying to hide how I was actually trembling. "I had to bite Scott out of necessity," Peter drawled on. "I needed power to heal more quickly. But it's so much more enjoyable to turn someone when you know what you're working with." Peter smiled kindly, holding his hands out to gesture to me. I wrapped my arms around my torso again, uncomfortable under his gaze.

"And what exactly do you think you're working with?" I asked tentatively.

"Natural talent," he replied. "Proven talent actually. You have all the same qualities of another talented werewolf. Or at least, someone who had the potential to be…" He finished the sentence with an air of honest sorrow. I furrowed my eyebrow questioningly, unwilling to ask. Peter noticed my confusion, and after a few seconds he sighed. "You remind Derek of someone he used to be extremely close to. Someone we were both very close to, actually. Someone we both lost, and someone we both wish desperately we could get back." I wanted to snap about how I wouldn't be treated as some replacement, but Peter managed to sound so genuinely upset that I couldn't manage it. "In case you haven't noticed, family is something Derek and I are both lacking."

"I'm not letting you turn me into a werewolf so you can use me to build up your little clan full of werepuppies," I objected. Peter wrinkled his nose in distaste.

"No," he replied firmly. "It's a werewolf pack, Sadie, not the Tudor dynasty. I'm not looking for heirs; I'm looking to assemble a team of talented young people. And you and Scott happen to be talented young people." He let that sink in for a moment, watching me carefully. I didn't respond, but there was an uneasy feeling growing my stomach—the same feeling I'd had in the dream, when Derek and Scott had shown up and I'd actually begun to consider Peter's offer. Perhaps Peter could sense the hesitation, because he pressed on. "Stiles is also a talented young man," he pointed out in a would-be-casual voice. "Just as clever and obstinate as you. But he also seems to be harboring a dreadful lack of self-confidence that plagues all you teenagers these days. Maybe we could do something about that."

"W-What?" I asked in confusion. Peter smiled at me once more, as if he found my puzzlement endearing.

"Sadie, it's very obvious to everyone around you that there's something between you two," he elaborated. "And despite what you all seem to think of me, I want you to be happy. If that means accepting both you and Mr. Stilinski into the pack, I'm willing to comply."

The terrifying thing was, I actually thought about it for a while. Peter's words from my dream echoed in my head. _"As a wolf you'll be naturally better. You can protect your friends and family. You'll be stronger, more agile, more beautiful." _I knew that there were downsides to the bite. It didn't always work, might end up killing me instead, and even if I did survive there would be hunters. I'd seen Scott's condition rip his relationship with Allison apart. Why would I volunteer to do the same? And to have Mr. Argent after me, Kate… Not only did that thought make me feel guilty, it made me feel terrified. I knew that the Argents were good at what they did. They might not have known about Scott yet, but it was only a matter of time before they found out, and then I wasn't sure how strictly they'd stick to their code. I didn't particularly enjoy the idea of being shot at. But with a pack…

I allowed myself to imagine it for a few seconds. Stiles and I as werewolves, getting help from Derek and Scott and Peter as we learned to control it. Watching Scott and Stiles kick ass on the lacrosse field as they darted in and out of all the other players, and the look of horror on Jackson's face when Stiles Stilinski actually got better than him at lacrosse. Being able to have quiet conversations with each other from different sides of the room because we could all hear each other muttering under our breath. Stiles and I purposely trying to get a rise out of the other just for the pleasure of hearing our heartbeats speed up. Derek with less of a scowl on his face as he let me drive the Camaro again. Stiles getting grilled and teased by Derek, Peter and Scott when I managed to get that stupid, shocked look on his face again and make his heart skip. Peter would have gotten his revenge, and the town could actually be quiet again. We could be like a family.

But if Peter's revenge was executed, then the Argents would be dead. Even if he spared Allison, she would lose her parents, she would lose Kate. And even if Peter managed to slaughter her family without her finding out about werewolves, she would be orphaned, devastated. She might have to leave Beacon Hills. And if she did discover that it was a werewolf who killed her family, a werewolf whose pack Scott, Stiles and I all belonged to, I had no doubt that she would go along the same path that Kate had taken. She'd lose all trust in anyone, turn to getting revenge, and she would be good at it. And then we'd have Allison after us all trying to kill us. Either way, Scott would be miserable, and I would lose one of the best friends I had in Beacon Hills. And how were you supposed to enjoy wolf powers when your life was crumbling around you?

And then I thought back to Stiles. He'd just confessed that having another human around had been one of the only things that kept him going the past few weeks. Sure, Peter would offer Stiles the bite, but what if he said no? We were two humans running with wolves, and we were in it together. How could I even think of making a decision like that without him after he'd practically poured his heart out to me and thanked me for being human?

"No."

"I'm sorry?" Peter asked, honestly looking taken aback. I looked up at him from where I'd been staring at the neatly trimmed grass beneath my feet, meeting his eyes with a steady gaze.

"No," I repeated. "I won't let you turn me." Peter's jaw clenched for a moment before he sighed, running a hand over his hair.

"Sadie, maybe you don't understand. I need a pack to beat the Argents, and I'm offering you and your friends not just protection in return, but a gift."

"Oh, I understand," I replied. "But I also understand what losing a parent feels like. And I'm not going to stand by while you slaughter my friend's family. I can't."

"So you're willing to endanger your mother and your friends, risk the lives of innocent people rather than let me dispose of the guilty?" he taunted. His words nagged at me, but I remained firm, unwilling to let him worm his way into my head again.

"I think we've done an okay job of protecting each other so far," I said decisively. "I'm willing to stick with that for now." Peter watched me for a moment before lowering and shaking his head, actually making a noise of disapproval.

"Tsk, tsk. I really wish you hadn't said that Sadie." His complete calm put me on edge as usual. He didn't even seem to be angry that I'd denied him, just disappointed in me.

"Why are you even asking?" I pressed. "You certainly didn't ask Scott for permission."

"None of you seem to understand that I did that because I had to," he lectured. "I'm actually trying not to be the bad guy here. I won't bite you without your permission." He clasped his hands in front of him still shaking his head. "Unfortunately, if you're not going to cooperate, I am going to need a new method of persuasion. If you don't respond to a reward system, I'm afraid I'm going to have to try something else." I was momentarily stunned by how parental Peter sounded, as if I was just some kid who hadn't done all of my chores. He paused to think for a moment before an idea seemed to strike him, and he looked up with a sad smile. "How about this? If you don't concede to join the pack, I'm going to attack Lydia."

"W-What?" I stammered. "What do you…?"

"She's coming out of the school right now," he informed me pleasantly. "She sounds a little worried. Most likely because she worked so hard to get you and Stiles together only for you to run out, but she's not sure why. She'll probably be here in about thirty seconds." I gaped at him in complete horror.

"Y-You can't do this!" I hissed.

"Oh, but I can," he countered. "I think you'll find being human puts you at an extreme disadvantage when it comes to protecting your friends."

"I won't do it," I spat. "If you touch a hair on her head, I will never, ever join your pack."

"Which seems to be the decision you already made," Peter pointed out with a smirk. "You see how I don't have much to lose here?"

"W-Why would I join you after you attacked my best friend?" I demanded in frustration.

"Because if you don't, I'm not going to attack her, I'm going to kill her," he replied. It was a quick and sharp threat, a dangerously even tone that proved to me that Peter was being one hundred percent serious. "Just a few more seconds, Sadie. What is it going to be?" I could hear her now, calling my name as she wandered the dark grounds.

"Lydia!" I screamed, keeping my eyes on Peter. "Lydia, go away!" But calling out to her had probably been the worst thing I could have done.

"Sadie?!" she called back. "What the hell are you doing out here?!" Her voice got louder as she got closer, following the sound of my voice. I cursed under my breath. Of course Lydia wouldn't actually listen to me. She was coming to check up on me, already assuming that I would push her away, and using my screams to pinpoint my location. But I didn't have time to stop her.

"Time's up," Peter whispered, and my blood ran cold.

"Sadie!" Lydia called. I whirled around. She was marching through the bleachers now, my purse swinging in her hand. I spun back to look at Peter, but he had completely disappeared. My breathing picked up, on the verge of hyperventilating, but all Lydia could see was that I was upset. "Sadie, what happened?" she asked as she rushed over to me.

"Lydia, go," I ordered in a shaky but demanding voice.

"No!" she replied stubbornly. "I'm not leaving you out here in the dark by yourself!" But at that moment, the floodlights over the stadium turned on one by one. Lydia and I both jumped, looking up and squinting in the sudden light. I desperately scrambled to grab my purse from Lydia, who practically threw it at me when she realized how frantic I was. "S-Sadie?! What's going on?!"

"Lydia, just stay behind me!" I ordered, wrenching the taser out of my bag. The problem was that I had no idea where Peter was, so I had no idea how to put myself between him and Lydia. I grabbed her by the shoulders and pointed her in one direction before lining up behind her, back to back. I was fairly certain that I was in the correct spot, and if I wasn't, hopefully Lydia's screaming would be enough of an indication that I would be able to react before it was too late.

"Sadie!" My concentration was broken as a third voice ripped through the silence on the field. I turned, spotting a figure moving toward use from the other end of the field. Not just moving—sprinting. I recognized Stiles's voice instantaneously, even when it was hoarse and strained and panicked. "Take Lydia and run! Sadie!" His desperation grew exponentially in the last exclamation, and I turned forward in search of the cause. But it was already too late.

It was my nightmare come to life. Peter had reappeared in front of me, his eyes flashing red and his face elongated and misshapen as he half-transformed. A roar ripped through the air, and I barely had time to feel the sound reverberate in my chest, to see Peter's sharp, lethal teeth before I crumpled to the ground. I let out a scream as the pain set in, one hand gripping my shoulder, where four long claw marks had torn into the skin. And then the nightmare got worse. Instead of being torn apart or turned, I was rendered immobile, forced to watch as Peter lunged right over me to Lydia. She didn't even have time to scream. But I did.

I shrieked as Peter's fangs tore into her side, staining the once beautiful champagne pink with ominous blotches of blood. Tears streamed down Lydia's face, her mouth opening and closing like she wanted scream but couldn't manage it. Peter's bloodied hands grabbed at her shoulders, claws digging into the skin and leaving trails of scarlet in their wake. My ear-splitting screech went on and on, my eyes blurring with tears of my own. Lydia's knees buckled and I threw myself forward in attempt to catch her, or at least break her fall. A rough hand on my shoulder ripped me back, and my spirit broke as I was forced to watch my best friend crumple to the ground, completely unconscious. I went to scream again, but Peter seemed to know what was coming. Before the air could leave my lungs, his hand was wrapped around the front of my neck, claws biting slightly into the muscle on either side. The built up scream turning into a shaky, terrified sigh, and Peter chuckled into my ear, amused by how easily disarmed I was.

Stiles finally caught up. He collapsed to his knees in front of me, by Lydia's head. His eyes were frantic, repeatedly flicking from my best friend's lifeless body to my own neck caught in Peter's grasp. I could feel Peter breathing heavily down my neck, but with the claws so close, I dared not turn around. Stiles was panting, his fingers twitching as his hand rose, itching to reach out towards Lydia, to check if she was still alive, but Peter's other hand was lying over her chest, silently warding him off. Stiles looked at me with pure, heartbreaking desperation.

"D-Don't kill her," he begged, his voice trembling as he stared at the fingers that wrapped around my throat. "Please."

"Of course not," Peter agreed after a few seconds. His breath washed over me as he spoke, and I tried to ignore the undeniable scent of blood wafting from his mouth. "Just tell me how to find Derek."

"Wh-What?" Stiles asked, still focused in on his claws. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Peter drag one pointed nail down the side of Lydia's face. I whimpered, trying to move to her, but Peter's hand tightened around the column of my throat.

"Ah ah ah," he scolded, before turning back to Stiles. "Tell me how to find Derek Hale."

"I—I don't know that!" Stiles barked. "How would I know that?!"

"Because you two are the clever ones, aren't you?" Peter reminded him. "And because deception has a particularly acrid scent, Stiles." He's hissed the sentence threateningly, and I took a moment from my fear to mentally curse the fact that you could never lie around werewolves. "Now, Sadie is…a little indisposed at the moment, so I need you to tell me what you know. Tell me the truth…or I will rip her apart."

"No he won't," I said quickly. "Stiles, he wants to turn me, he's not gonna kill me." Peter let out a sigh of frustration, tightening his fingers once more around the column of my throat.

"I wouldn't be too sure of that," he breathed in my ear. "I get…easily frustrated when people aren't cooperative." Every fiber of my being was still quivering in fear, but my gaze on Stiles was steady, silently willing him to think about my words.

"Look, I don't know, okay?" Stiles begged, looking frantically between my face, Peter's face, Peter's hand and Lydia's body. "I—I swear to God, I have no idea." But apparently, that was the wrong answer.

_"Tell me!" _

Peter's roar was loud and petrifying. It was deeper than his normal voice, almost as if just his vocal chords had half-transformed into the wolf's. The sound seemed to shake the very ground I was kneeling on, make the trees in the surrounding forest tremble as he issued the order with all the strength of a terrifying Alpha.

"Okay, okay, okay!" Stiles placated, positively quaking. "Look, I…I think he knew."

"Knew what?" Peter pressed darkly. Stiles gulped, staring warily at my neck.

"Derek, I think he…I think he knew he was gonna be caught."

"By the Argents?" Peter asked, and Stiles gave a short nod, breathing a word of affirmation. "And?"

"When they were shot, he and Scott, I…I think he took Scott's phone."

"Why?" Peter urged.

"They all have GPS now," Stiles informed him, looking up from my neck for a moment. "So if he still has it, and it's still on…you can find him." The entire world seemed to still for a minute as Peter considered this new information. I could see my breath in the frigid night air, but my skin had long gone numb from the cold and the fear. Finally, Peter's hand loosened on my neck.

"Thank you, Stiles," he granted, smile in his voice. "That was very helpful." He released me, placing a hand on my back and shoving me forward into Stiles's arms. Stiles instantly grabbed me, holding my shoulders and brushing my hair out of my face as I coughed.

"Sadie," he breathed in a sigh of terrified relief. "Oh my God, a-are you okay? Sadie?" I quickly nodded reassuringly, gulping down air in an attempt to soothe my throat and expand my lungs once more. He breathed my name once more before pulling me to his chest, wrapping his arms around me protectively and burying his face in my hair. I clenched his shirt, a few tears leaking down my cheeks.

"I do hate to interrupt," Peter piped from above us. He was standing now, casually wiping the blood from his mouth with a cloth he'd pulled from his pocket, as if this were an everyday occurrence for him. In all fairness, it might have been. "But there's important business to attend to." I pulled back from Stiles, whirling around in a rage and glaring so viciously at Peter that he actually cocked his head in surprise.

"There are important people to attend to first," I spat. "Fix her." Instead though, Peter simply gave me what I assumed was supposed to be a remorseful smile.

"I can't," he replied shortly. "And Derek is an important person too. He needs to be found."

"No!" Stiles objected. "We're not just letting you leave her here."

"You don't have a choice, Stiles," Peter informed him emotionlessly. "You're coming with me."

"No he's not," I argued. "If you can't fix her, Stiles and I will. We're taking her to the hospital right now. Find Derek on your own."

"I need Stiles's help," Peter maintained. "You can stay and try to help your friend, but he's with me."

"No I'm not," Stiles objected. "You know how to find him now. Why would I help you?"

"Because if you don't, I will slash Sadie's throat open before she has a chance to blink." The threat hung in the air, and after a few seconds I was horrified to feel Stiles's grip on me fall slack. My head snapped toward him, eyes wide with disbelief.

"Stiles, no," I protested. "I already told you, he's not going to hurt me. He said he doesn't want me dead, remember?"

"And _he_ is free to change his mind at any time," Peter piped, waiting impatiently for Stiles to join him. Stiles looked from Peter back to me, his expression sullen.

"Sadie, I…I cannot risk you getting hurt," he whispered hoarsely. His thumb brushed a tear off my cheek, and then he moved to stand up. I pushed myself back up onto my knees, grabbing desperately at his shirtsleeve.

"Stiles. Stiles, no," I begged. He turned back to look down at me, face full of anguish. "Stiles, don't. She—she needs help, and I… Don't leave me." Stiles moved his free hand over mine, easing my grip on his shirt.

"I'm not letting you get hurt," he replied adamantly. "I'm sorry." My hands fell slack. My arms dropped to my sides, body dropping back onto my ankles next to Lydia's bleeding body. My eyes filled with tears, from the cold, from the fear, from the pain, and I was almost glad for a moment. My vision blurred, and I didn't have to watch Stiles turn around and walk away from me with Peter, leaving me alone, cold and scared in the middle of the deserted lacrosse field.

* * *

**A/N: *deep sigh* OH MY GOD. IT'S UP. IT'S POSTED. WHAT DO I DO NOW?!**

**First of all, I want to take a second to thank each every single one of you. This is the first time I have ever gotten to the climax of a story. Sadie and Stiles slow dancing was the first scene of this fanfiction I ever imagined, and I have never in my life gotten to write the point I thought of first. It's been marinating in my head for so long now, I hope you guys like it as much as I do.**

**Secondly, I'm gonna apologize just a tad. It irks me to know that "Die Young" wasn't released when this is supposed to take place. Usually I'm pretty good about that, but it couldn't be avoided. This was the song that gave me the idea for this chapter, for this story as a whole really, and it didn't feel right to write it without putting it in. Now you all know why the story's called The Wild Side!**

**Thank you to all of my readers, favoriters, followers and reviewers, new and old. Special thanks to enthusiastic-fan-and-reader, xXbriannaXx, Simone140089, kaljara, GuardianAngel45, Britt, ScornedxRose, bbymojo, kodt4e, ElithaAndWest, lostintraduction, A Cool Guest, becca1130, LifeToDeath, Celestial Wolves, alvirgil, rae-reader1993, BrainsBeforeBeauty, SammieLuvsFood, xALFiex, ellisbellisballs, Kelly1432, GetsueiNoYume, Alexstarlight18, GeekaZoid420, Isaac fan, DetectiveKateTodd, Lucy Greenhill, xxxxninaxxxx, FormofJane, LynZann, titieli, cuteepiee1, Moonyong98, Guest, MagicalMemories, and of course, prettyargents and LionHeartMisfit. Thank you guys for not being TOO upset with me for splitting it, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter.**

**I literally cannot wait to hear what you guys have to say. Thank you so much for sticking with me, and please let it all out in the reviews!**

**-Brittney**


	32. Chapter 32

_"This is my fault. This is all my fault."_

That was all I could manage to think as I waited in the prison they called a hospital. Hospitals were supposed to be places of healing. But as far as I was concerned, there was absolutely no healing going on anywhere around me. Instead, it had turned into an institution for pain—Lydia's physical pain, my minor aches, the stress of waiting for an update on my best friend's condition, the agony of hearing that she still wasn't stable, the mental anguish I endured as I thought again and again that this was completely and entirely my fault. And I deserved every shred of pain I felt, because I knew that I was the sole reason Lydia was lying in that hospital bed. Peter had given me a choice, and I had refused to save my best friend's life. Why? Was I really trying to save people pain? Or was I just trying to prove something? To prove to Peter that I was strong enough to not back down, not matter what the cost was?

I certainly didn't feel strong now. In fact, I felt anything but strong as I was herded around the hospital. Time seemed to pass in a blur, and already the details of the night were starting to seem fuzzy. Stiles and Peter had left me on the field, cradling Lydia's body in my arms. I'd been crying, who knows how long for. I have no idea when I actually came to the realization that I should be saving Lydia instead of crying over her like she was already dead. I'd tried to stand, to pull Lydia up into my arms, but failed her again. The pressure immediately sent the heels of my pumps into the soft ground, tripping me and forcing me to collapse back to the ground in an awkward tumble. I let out a watery scream of frustration, hands scrambling around me before I finally managed to grab my purse. I pulled the cell phone out, blindly dialing the first number that came to mind. Jackson had picked up with some slurred insult, demanding to know why I was calling him. However, he sobered up almost immediately when he heard my uncontrollable, strangled sobs. He heard me choke out Lydia's name, and then he began pestering me with worried, almost frantic questions. All I'd managed to get out coherently was "Alpha" and "lacrosse field," but apparently that was enough for Jackson. After some hurried assurance, he'd hung up the phone, leaving me free to drop mine and collapse onto Lydia, head and hand on her chest to make sure she was still breathing.

What felt like seconds later, Jackson and Danny were sprinting onto the field. They both paused for a moment in horror at the sight before them, Lydia and I both bleeding, the strawberry-blonde beauty unconscious in my arms while I probably had makeup streaming down my cheeks. Then Jackson had leapt into action, shoving me out of the way and scooping Lydia up into his arms. Danny had been responsible for corralling me, pulling me into a hug and half-carrying me after Jackson. I'd struggled with him every step of the way, the world spinning around me and distorting as I began to hyperventilate on top of the tears. Jackson had rushed on, his ex-girlfriend limp in his arms, leaving Danny to save me from the sudden panic attack. He'd pulled me to his chest, whispering soothingly and forcing me to slow my breaths down in time with his. His lungs moved under my hands, and with great difficulty, I managed to regain control. But then I'd begun crying from relief, crying from the remembrance of my grief once more, and Danny had pulled me along to the front of the school in pursuit of Lydia and Jackson.

Then the slew of cop cars and ambulances had arrived in a flash of red and blue. Lydia was whisked away to the hospital in the same ambulance as Jackson and me, both of us refusing to leave her side. But once we'd reached the building, they'd held the shaken lacrosse captain back, dragging Lydia and I in different directions despite my protests. Then I'd been subjected to ages of prodding and fussing. I told everyone over and over again that I didn't care about the claw marks on my shoulder, or the indistinct cuts and bruises on my neck. They would heal, but Lydia might not. But no one listened to me. They all just stared with pitying gazes, going about their business and shaking their heads at the poor, babbling teenage girl who'd been attacked at her high school dance.

I didn't feel the slightest bit better after my wounds had been bandaged. Then at least I had had someone to yell at. Once the doctors had decided nothing was remotely life threatening, I'd been led to the waiting room on Lydia's floor, and left to wait there without any more information. Jackson just stood by the window to her room, staring inside with a hard expression. But I couldn't do it. I couldn't stand on the outside of her room, knowing that they wouldn't let me in because I wasn't related, knowing that I was the reason she was there, watching her pallid, lifeless face. I couldn't sit still. I had to do _something_. I pestered almost every nurse or doctor who passed, though none of them were tending to Lydia or even knew who she was.

"I just need to know she's going to be okay," I cried to one very confused doctor, whose arm I had grasped as he tried to skirt past me.

"I'm sorry, miss," he tried to console. "I don't…"

"Please!" I begged. "Y-You have to ask. I just need someone to tell me whether or not she's okay!"

"It's alright, doctor," a familiar voice interrupted from behind me. "I'll take it from here." I immediately released my grip on the poor man's arm, whirling around to meet a chest of tan fabric and a shining gold badge. I looked fearfully up into Sheriff Stilinski's concerned face. His usually kind eyes squinted at me with sorrow, darting over the gauze on my shoulder and my makeup-stained face. His head shook slightly, and I couldn't read an ounce of good news anywhere in his face.

"She's…she's gonna be okay, r-right?" I whispered hoarsely, my voice trembling. I felt a few tears leak out of my eyes once more, and the sympathetic look on the sheriff's face softened even further.

"Come here, Sadie," he ordered quietly, before placing warm, gentle hands on my shoulders and pulling me to his chest.

The soft, worn fabric of his uniform felt familiar beneath my skin, and it was all too much all over again. A few tears turned into profuse crying, and soon I could barely get in a breath between my choked sobs. Stiles's father wrapped his arms firmly around my shoulders, comforting me as much as he could while still maintaining a shred of the appearance of being professional. It wasn't until a few minutes later, when my sobs subsided into whimpers and sniffles once more, that I realized we had actually moved. During my less-than-coherent episode, the sheriff had taken the liberty of leading me away from the waiting room and other lingering patrons. I looked up and down the quiet hallway, trying to recollect myself as I wiped the tears from my cheeks. Sheriff Stilinski still had one hand on my shoulder, his warm, consoling grip keeping me grounded.

"S-Sorry," I mumbled, shaking my head at the ground. "I…I didn't mean to cause a scene."

"Hey, that's fine," he dismissed quietly. "You girls have been through a lot tonight. It's understandable. I just need you to take a few deep breaths." I nodded slightly, concentrating on my breathing and trying to force the image of Lydia's body out of my head.

_Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out._

"Okay," the sheriff started when he deemed me reasonably calm. "Sadie, can you tell me what happened?" I abruptly stopped breathing once more, but this time, it was from panic. I had been so concerned about Lydia that I had completely forgotten about the bigger picture. Lydia and I were now the two latest victims of Beacon Hills' animal attacks, and I had absolutely no cover story. I blinked hard, staring at the shining sheriff's badge and trying to formulate some sort of story that wouldn't sound completely far fetched.

"We…we were at the dance…" I started slowly, and Mr. Stilinski nodded encouragingly. "And then…then I ran outside…"

"Why did you run outside, Sadie?" he questioned in a soft voice. Time for my first lie. I couldn't very well tell him I was trying to save Lydia's life. It wasn't like there were any cougars in the building to save her from. But Sheriff Stilinski noticed my hesitance, and mistook it for fear instead of nerves. "Okay, what were you doing just before you ran out?" he revised. My heart skipped a beat, remembering Stiles's breath on my face just before I'd seen Peter. It felt like a lifetime ago.

"I was dancing with Stiles," I whispered. Even now I felt my face heat up, and his father smiled slightly despite the situation.

"Okay," he conceded. "Then what happened?"

"I…I ran."

"Why?" the sheriff pressed in concern. I thought back to the dance, my head getting foggy just thinking about being that close to Stiles again.

"I—I freaked out," I stammered, staring blindly ahead. "B-Because I was there with Stiles and Stiles kept talking and saying all these things but he was supposed to want to be with Lydia and—and he was there with Lydia, but…"

"Woah, woah, hang on," Mr. Stilinski interrupted, waving his hand and screwing up his face in confusion. "Who was where with who?"

"Stiles," I repeated, trying to slow myself down. "He went to the dance with Lydia."

"He did what?" But the sheriff's face was no longer contorted with bewilderment, but anger.

"He…He was Lydia's date…" I repeated weakly, seriously concerned about the look on his face.

"I thought Stiles was going with you," he reminded me, jabbing a finger at my chest. I shrugged slightly, surprised that he wasn't aware of the situation. Part of me had been sure Stiles must have danced around the house singing at the top of his lungs when he found out he was going with Lydia. Surely he would have gushed about that information to his father.

"Change of plans," I answered. "I was able to get Lydia to go with him."

"Did you not want to go with him?" the sheriff asked, seeming slightly defensive.

"No!" I exclaimed immediately. "I mean, yes! I—I did want to go with him, but…but Stiles has liked Lydia forever, so I thought he'd rather go with her. And so he did." The sheriff stared blankly at me for a moment, hands resting on his hips as he went over the words in his head. Finally, he looked down at the ground, shaking his head.

"I just don't understand you kids," he muttered. I furrowed my brow, letting out a breath of confused and nervous laughter. Mr. Stilinski looked back up and continued, "So—So did Stiles say something to you that…?"

"No," I replied promptly. "No, no he didn't do anything wrong. It was… It was kind of more like…he was doing everything right… So I freaked out and I…and I ran…" I chewed on my lip for a few moments, but forced myself to go on before the sheriff could ask what exactly his son had been doing right. "I just wanted to get some fresh air and sort of clear my head, so I was just wandering around for a bit, and then Lydia came looking for me. She found me out by the lacrosse field and then…" I trailed off, remembering the threatening tone of Peter's voice as he assured me that he would not just attack, but kill Lydia if I didn't agree to take the bite.

"Then what?" Mr. Stilinski pressed. I snapped out of my daze, looking up at him with wide, fearful eyes.

"That's when the…the mountain lion attacked…"

"Mountain lion?" the sheriff repeated, almost sounding skeptical. "You're sure?"

"Yeah," I replied, then shook my head. "Well, no. I—I was facing Lydia, and then she screamed and I turned around and it pounced and clawed my shoulder. I kind of…I kind of blacked out after that." He let out a heavy sigh, wiping a tired hand down the side of his face at the new information. "I'm sorry," I mumbled, wrapping my arms around my torso and shifting on my feet, sincerely wishing I had a change of shoes.

"No, no," he assured me. "You've got nothing to be sorry for. You were attacked. It's not your fault you can't tell me anything." I winced, knowing full well that it _was_ really my fault I couldn't tell the sheriff anything. I couldn't tell him about Peter attacking us, or blackmailing me, or Stiles running onto the field. The sheriff couldn't know about any of it, and when he could, it would have to be Stiles's decision. So instead of dwelling on my guilt, I changed the subject.

"Do you know anything about Lydia?" I asked in a small voice. Sheriff Stilinski dropped his hand, looking at me sympathetically. I ducked my head, picking at the nice nail polish Lydia had painted on me only a few hours ago. I realized with a small jolt of horror that there were traces of blood under my nails. "Th-They won't tell me anything," I muttered, trying to remove the blood without thinking about it. "Because I'm not family, but…she'll be okay, right?" He sighed again, running a hand over his hair the same way that Stiles did.

"They honestly don't know," he informed me sadly. "She lost a lot of blood and uh, her condition keeps changing. One minute she'll be completely unresponsive, and the next she's convulsi-…" He cut himself off, deciding mid-sentence that it might be better if I didn't know all of the details. In retrospect, I was happy he did. "It's like her body's fighting off an infection or something," he amended. "And so long as she's still fighting, she's still alive." He placed a bracing hand on my shoulder, offering me a supportive smile. "From what I've heard about Lydia Martin, she's definitely a fighter." I let out a small, watery chuckle. I hadn't even been aware that I'd started crying silently again.

"Yeah. Yeah she is." Sheriff Stilinski raised his other hand to my opposite shoulder, turning me to face him dead on.

"The best thing you can do for her right now is to stay here and be supportive," he advised, looking at me earnestly. "Both your mothers should be here soon. Try to remember anything you can about the attack. Sounds, anything. The more we know, the more we can help her." I nodded timidly, making the sheriff smile and pat my head. "Real glad you're okay, Sadie."

"Thanks," I whispered hoarsely. He gave a short nod and turned to walk back towards another group of officers and doctors nearby. But after a few steps he paused, turning back with a raised finger.

"Hey, Sadie," he offered awkwardly. "Uh, I know my son can be a bit of a dumbass sometimes, but… Stiles was real excited to go to the dance with you. I mean, he didn't tell me about this whole change of plans thing, but… I know he was really worried about messing things up with you, and he wanted to take you." My lips pulled up into a tight, forced smile.

"Thanks, Mr. Stilinski," I replied politely. "I'm sure he did. I just know he wanted to take Lydia more." The sheriff shook his head slightly, but to my surprise, he was also smiling.

"Don't you think you ought to leave that up to him?" he offered. "I think you might be surprised by what he has to say." I furrowed my brow in confusion, but Sheriff Stilinski simply nodded slightly and turned away. This time, he made it a few more steps before he paused again. "Actually, you mind calling him?" he asked. "I'd like to have a word with him, and I got a feeling you'd have a better chance of getting him to answer his phone." I nodded again, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind my ear, the same curl that Stiles had brushed back earlier. This time the man really did make his exit, returning to his investigating crew and leaving me free to return to the waiting room. I fumbled with my purse, fishing out my phone and dialing the digits of Stiles's cell phone purely through muscle memory. It rang and it rang and it rang, until his voicemail picked up.

_"Yo, this is Stiles's phone. If you've got this number, you've gotta be pretty damn important, but for some reason, I can't talk. If this is an emergency, you probably should have called 911. Intents, purposes, dirty secrets and social security numbers after the beep."_

"Hey, Stiles," I greeted to no one, a small smile on my face as I replayed the answering machine's message in my head. "It's Sadie. I'm uh… I'm at the hospital, with Lydia…obviously… She's um…not doing too good… Your dad says she's still fighting, but they don't know what happened so no one really knows how to help her, and I can't tell anyone anything but I need to do something. I need to do something to help…" I trailed off, looking at my forlorn expression in the reflection of a nearby window. I did indeed have makeup all over my face. There were a few streaks of dirt too, though the paramedics had clearly tried to clean it off when they could get me to sit still. Most of my hair had come loose from the pins, leaving half-stretched curls to tumble and frizz on my shoulders, some strands sticking out from my scalp at odd angles into the air. "Please call me when you get this," I begged. "I could really use the help… I need you…" I coughed slightly as I realized that I had actually said it out loud, and the recording would not allow me to take anything back. I winced, shaking my head at my frazzled reflection. "Y-Yeah, just…just call me." I promptly hung up the phone, clenching my fist around it as if I were ready to turn it to powder. Radio silence from Stiles could not be a good thing. I found myself, surprisingly, hoping he were still with Peter. At least then the Alpha could be forcing him not to answer his phone. If Stiles wasn't with Peter and still wasn't answering his phone, the explanation had to be much, much worse. Perhaps Peter had just taken his phone. Or maybe he'd attacked Stiles, killing him or leaving him broken and bruised in some remote corner of the Beacon Hills preserve. That thought in mind, I pressed redial.

I'm not sure how many times I ended up calling Stiles. I didn't leave any more voicemails, deciding that it would be better to avoid any and all chances for word vomit to strike again. I simply dialed, let the phone ring, and then hung up as soon as Stiles's pre-recorded message began to play. Wash, rinse, repeat.

Eventually, the space between my calls got longer and longer, until I just stopped calling him all together. He would call me. If he was alive and well, or alive and not well, or alive at all, he would call me. So instead, I was frozen at the edge of Lydia's room. I stared through the window at her blank face, all of her makeup washed away, her fiery hair looking lank and lifeless as it hung down her shoulders, pulled from the curls I'd so carefully arranged before the dance. She had a mask over her face to help her breath, and her fingers twitched slightly at the end of long, bruised arms. I watched those twitches like my life depended on it. Sheriff Stilinski was right. So long as she was still fighting, she was still alive.

For a few, almost terrifying seconds, I wished again that I had let Peter bite me. Not even to have saved Lydia. There was no guarantee Peter wouldn't have attacked her anyway, that_ I_ wouldn't have attacked her if I'd lost control. But I wanted to hear her heartbeat. Even feeble and shaky, it would reassure me that the body I was looking at, that my best friend was just sleeping, not a corpse.

I stood there in complete silence for what felt like an eternity, watching her chest rise and fall, watching the machines she was hooked up to blip and ping, registering her fragile heartbeat. It was almost as if the rest of the world didn't exist. But I was broken out of my reverie by a hand landing on the glass at the edge of my view.

I jumped slight, turning to see Allison on my left. She'd changed out of her formal clothes, now dressed down in a pair of black yoga pants and a purple sweatshirt, her hair tied up into a loose knot on her head. She watched Lydia through the window, looking completely tormented. I couldn't imagine how I looked at this point. I wiped a few more silent tears from my face. I turned to Allison to hug her, but she didn't move, leaving her right arm up on the glass and essentially cutting her body away from me.

"Allison?" I sniffled quietly. Her gaze never left Lydia.

"How long have you known?" she whispered. I glanced between her stoic face and our usually vibrant friend, eyebrows knitting together slightly.

"I was there when she got attacked," I replied weakly. "We both did. Jackson said he was gonna call you, so I…"

"How long have you known about Scott?" The sharp correction made my eyes widen, snapping back to her face.

"What?" I wasn't feigning ignorance so much as I was truly surprised.

"How long have you known about Scott?" she repeated, the anger seeping into her voice this time. She turned to face me, narrowing her eyes in a dangerous glare that actually made me want to step back. I didn't. "About Scott? About Derek? About my family? How long have you known?" Now there was no denying what exactly Allison was asking about. The only thing Scott, Derek and the Argents had in common was the knowledge of werewolves. But I was still shocked. I'd always believed that whenever Allison found out about her family, I'd be able to tell. Like something had changed in her face, or her stance, or maybe she would just tell me. But I hadn't expected this at all, though the change in her face was glaringly obvious now. I bit my lip, fidgeting under her glare, trying to decide whether or not there was any point in lying. But Allison already knew I'd been lying to her, and wouldn't be pleased if I continued.

"Since the attack at the video store," I confessed quietly. "Stiles told me." Allison's jaw dropped in disbelief.

"S-Since my birthday?!" she demanded. "And you—you didn't tell me?!"

"I didn't want to turn you against anyone," I tried to reason. "Between Scott and your family, I didn't want to be the one to make you choose."

"So you lied for him?!" she spat. "You let me date a werewolf and get dragged into that mess at school and be mad at my family just because he asked you to lie for him?! Or—Or was it some twisted way to get in with Stiles, huh?! Because you wanted to prove you were trustworthy?!"

"Scott's a good guy," I defended shakily, trying to ignore the last jab and how it made my stomach feel hollow. "Allison, if being a werewolf made him a monster, do you really think Stiles and I would be alive? Scott honestly loves y-…"

"No!" she cut me off, shoving me back by my shoulders and causing me to stumble slightly. "Don't you dare! God, Sadie! You're supposed to be my best friend! It's like I don't even know you!"

The statement hit me like a slap across the face. I froze completely, mouth hanging open and eyes stinging again as I stared at Allison. I knew she was upset, hurt that I hadn't told her everything I knew. And maybe I was being selfish. I hadn't told her about Scott and Derek and her family because I didn't want to be the one to bring her all of that pain. Now it looked like not being the bearer of bad news had actually made things worse. But for Allison to think that she didn't know me at all, that our friendship had been faked because I was friends with Scott, or worse, because I was just manipulating her to make Stiles like me, that was the part that had really hurt me. I saw her eyes soften slightly as she looked at my face, knowing she'd taken things just a tad too far but not ready to take anything back. I finally managed to close my mouth, nodding slightly and breathing heavily as I tried to recompose myself.

"How long have you known?" I asked quietly. Allison crossed her arms, turning back to Lydia's window and refusing to look at me.

"I only found out about Scott tonight," she informed me icily. "But I've known about everything else since last week." I stepped up to her shoulder, mirroring her posture as I turned to look into Lydia's room instead of addressing her directly.

"How?"

"Kate told me," she replied, the anger flaring in her voice again. "After you and Stiles got into your little car accident and Scott ditched me. She's got Derek, but I guess you already knew that." I nodded silently. "Apparently she's the only one who thinks I'm strong enough to know," Allison continued. "My parents didn't want me to know. They _still_ don't want me to know. They're trying to send me out of town until this is all over. Kate's supposed to be driving me to a safe house in Washington."

"Supposed to be?" I repeated. Allison huffed quietly, though whether it was directed at her parents, the whole situation, or me, I couldn't tell.

"I can't walk away from this," she said after a few seconds. "People are dying, Lydia might not even survive and my so-called friends are involved. I have to do something." We stood in silence for almost a whole minute, staring at the heart monitor hooked up to Lydia's pulse, peaking steadily for now. But it was just for the moment. How long did she have before peaks went haywire again, or the line just stopped peaking all together? I couldn't lose another friend. Not again.

"I want to help."

"What?" Allison snapped, so shocked that she actually turned to look at me.

"I can't just sit here and watch her anymore," I said firmly, lips pursed into a tight line. "I have to do something. I want to help."

"You can't," Allison bit back. "We don't need your help. I don't trust you." The words made my stomach shake again, and part of me felt like I was going to be sick. But my resolve was firm. There was nothing more I could do for Lydia, and Stiles wasn't picking up his phone. I had no idea where Derek and Scott were, but I refused to sit by and wait while my friends fought a battle I was supposed to be a part of.

"I know," I conceded. "But this isn't about me or you. This is about Lydia. I know a lot more about what's happening than you do. I know who the Alpha is. Just let me help, and I'll tell you everything I know." I finally turned to look at her, to see that we were wearing identical expressions. Both firm and collected, calculating the other person's resolve and confidence. Thankfully, Allison was the one who broke first.

"Talk to Kate," she huffed. "I don't want you to come, but if she lets you then fine. I don't care." She turned on her heel, walking back the way she'd come, towards the elevator.

"Allison," I stopped her, grabbing her wrist. As angry as she was, she did pause, turning around to look at me with a pained expression. "I don't think this changes anything, but… I do think you're strong enough to know. I've wanted to tell you for ages, and I know I was being selfish, but… I think you're more than capable of handling yourself." Allison's face softened for a fraction of a second before the angry wall came up once more.

"You're right," she shot, yanking her arm out of my grasp. "It doesn't change anything." She stormed away towards the elevator, and with one last look into Lydia's hospital room, I followed her.

The ride down to the parking lot was awkward to say the least. Allison refused to even look at me, and I knew better than to try and start a conversation. The only words she spoke to me were a quick order to stay where I was, standing at the edge of the parking lot while she stalked over to Kate's green Kia. I obeyed, eyeing the car warily as Allison climbed in and slammed the door behind her. How long had Kate known that Scott was a werewolf? How long had she known that I knew about werewolves? How angry was she going to be at me for lying to her about something so huge? Kate had never done anything to me, but I knew she wasn't someone to mess around with. I knew that she was dangerous, but I also knew the hunters had some sort of code. I was human, so Kate couldn't do anything to me for lying…right?

All my silent questions were answered a few seconds later when the doors of the Kia opened once more. Allison and Kate both climbed out, walking around to the back of the car and waving me over. I approached cautiously, completely unsure of what I was going to be greeted with. But whatever I was anticipating, it was not what I got.

"Heya, Sadie," Kate greeted with a grin. "Damn, you know I was kidding about the whole 'drop-dead-sexy dress' thing right? I mean, did your boy actually manage to survive you looking this hot?" Allison and I both raised our eyebrows in confusion, actually glancing at each other curiously. I'd been hoping that Kate wouldn't be too harsh, but I hadn't even paused to consider the possibility that she'd actually be acting…completely normal.

"Uh, yeah," I replied slowly. "Stiles is fine."

"Well, obviously he's not _totally_ fine," Kate corrected casually. "I mean, he did just let both his dates get mauled by a werewolf. He inside?"

"No!" I answered quickly, hoping to protect him from whatever the slight reproachful edge in Kate's voice might mean for him. "No, he's uh…" Kate raised her eyebrows innocently, gesturing for me to go on. I glanced at Allison again. Kate was a trained hunter, and I knew there was a good chance that she'd be able to tell if I was lying. And she already knew that I knew about werewolves. There was really no point in hiding anything now, and I wasn't going to push my luck with her by trying. "He went with the Alpha," I revealed softly. "So he wouldn't kill Lydia and me."

"Stiles?" Kate asked, honestly seeming surprised. "What does the Alpha want with him?"

"He needs to find Derek," I informed her, wrapping my shivering arms around my torso. "He thinks Stiles knows how."

"Does he?" she pressed. I bit my lip for a moment before nodding.

"GPS in Scott's phone."

"Scott's phone?" she repeated. "Why would that…?" But she trailed off as a look of realization came over her face. "Which Derek must have grabbed right before I grabbed him. You know, it's so rare to find a guy with brains and looks. Too bad he's a mutt." She chuckled darkly, shaking her head at the ground and giving Allison and I another moment to glance at each other in bemusement. "Well," Kate announced with a smirk, collecting herself again. "Finding Derek Hale isn't a problem we have. So now, we know exactly where the Alpha's gonna be. And as cute as that dress is, sweetheart, you are definitely gonna need to change." Kate brandished a finger at me before turning to the trunk. Allison's eye went wide.

"Kate!" she hissed. Her aunt raised her eyebrows questioningly. Allison shot me a sidelong glance, continuing to address Kate as if I wasn't even there. "She knew about Scott this whole time. She knew about the Alpha this whole time, and she didn't tell anyone. Why should we trust her?" To our surprise, Kate actually offered what looked like a sincere smile, turning away from the car and back to us.

"Because I've been there," she said softly. "I wasn't always such a kickass hunter. There was a time when I thought that protecting shifters was the right thing to do. And it only took one little incident for me to change my mind." Allison's eyebrows shot up to her hairline, but my face remained placid. Clearly, as close as Allison and Kate were, she hadn't yet been treated to the story of Kate's defiance and how it had almost gotten her killed. "I almost died," she said offhandedly. "And that's all it took for me to reevaluate my position. And I'd say having your best friend get mauled by a werewolf is a pretty good incentive for change. So, Sadie…" She paused, crossing her arms over her chest and turning to look directly at me. "What exactly do you want?"

I had to think about that. What exactly _did_ I want? What was I supposed to want? What did Kate think I wanted? By the sounds of it, she thought that I had reached my turning point. The point in my life where I had to choose what was right and what was wrong, who was good and who was bad. Admittedly, my life had spiraled out of control since getting pulled into the supernatural side of Beacon Hills. The argument could be made that if I had backed out when Stiles had told me, if I hadn't pressed for the answers I so desperately wanted, Lydia would still be standing next to me. Maybe she'd still be happily dating Jackson. I had no idea where I'd be. Where would any of us be? Would we even all be alive? Lydia would be healthy, but what if someone else had died in her place? What if it was Allison? Scott? Stiles?

I could try and blame all of my problems on the fact that werewolves existed. I could try and pin it all on all shifters, the way Kate had done. Peter had attacked my best friend, Derek had turned on me, Scott was the reason that I was pulled into the whole mess. But as easy as it would have been to take Kate's path, to turn on my friends just to end all of the frustration and the pain, I couldn't. I knew that Scott wasn't a monster. A monster wouldn't have laughed when I beat him at video games. A monster wouldn't have begged me to help him study for English because he was failing. A monster wouldn't go out of his way to try and set me up with the guy I liked. A monster wouldn't have done so much to help me, to help everyone, if he was only going to turn around and murder someone. Scott wasn't bad. I knew that Derek wasn't either. And as long as I could keep my faith in that, then I would know that not all shifters were mindless killing machines, beasts that ought to be executed for being something they had no control over. I wouldn't make the same mistake as Kate.

Unfortunately, I couldn't tell Kate that I still had faith in werewolves. Allison was right. So long as I held that point of view, they had no reason to trust me. For the moment, I needed them to trust me. I needed to help take Peter Hale down for everything he had done to me and my friends, for everything he had done to Lydia. I wouldn't sit at the hospital and watch her die. So I replied with as much truth as I could.

"I want the Alpha dead," I replied firmly. It wasn't a blanket statement, but there was enough ferocity behind the phrase that Kate seemed to buy it. She smirked, narrowing her eyes and leaning forward a fraction.

"Then who is it?"

"Peter," I answered after a moment, making her raise her eyebrows. "Peter Hale. Derek's uncle." Kate mulled that over for a few seconds, nodding her head slowly instead of answering right away.

"Figures that creep would still be kicking," she laughed finally, turning back to the Kia and popping the trunk. Allison and I shared another bewildered look.

"Y-You know him?" Allison asked shakily, but Kate simply waved her off without looking up.

"Knew him," she replied. "And let's keep it that way by killing the bastard, huh?" Her head reemerged from the car, heaving a black duffel out from the trunk, which she handed to Allison. "Okay, that's your stuff. Grab something and go get changed. Sadie, you're a bit bigger than Ally so I think you're gonna have to borrow some of mine." She walked around to the side of the car to grab another bag, giving me time to shoot Allison another questioning look. She simply shrugged slightly, heaving the bag onto her shoulder and walking away. I watched her go with a sigh, hoping that she'd be able to forgive me soon. I wasn't sure how many blank, emotionless stares I'd be able to endure while Lydia was still unconscious. I couldn't lose both of my best friends in one night. "Aha!" Kate cheered, breaking me out of my thoughts. She emerged from the car once more, now holding a stack of dark clothing in her hand. "Try these on for size." I accepted the clothing silently, finally grinning when she handed me a pair of combat boots.

"Oh my God, thank you," I sighed, immediately kicking off the pumps. Kate laughed.

"Hey, the shoes are killer, just not practical." I slipped my feet into the boots, wiggling my toes. They were a little big, but the socks would help.

"Thanks, Kate," I said with a small, nervous smile. She nodded, rubbing a hand on my shoulder.

"Don't thank me yet. Just go get changed, kid." I nodded, turning on my heel and heading back into the hospital.

I was a little surprised, and almost proud, that Kate's clothes fit me like a glove. She'd grabbed me a plain, black fitted T-shirt as well as a slim leather jacket. It wasn't the same as mine, but it was still ridiculously nice. There were loads of sleek concealed pockets, which I was sure were usually used to hide weapons. I slipped into the provided pair of dark skinny jeans and socks, and then laced the boots up once more. I tried to fold the dress as best I could, and moved my dog tags from my wrist to my neck once more. I removed the pins from my hair, the hairsprayed curls tumbling down from my head in a way I was actually pleased with. Too bad nobody would ever see it. I was going hunting, not to a social event.

I tugged the jacket closed and looked at myself in the mirror. I decided silently like I actually looked like the definition of "beautiful but deadly." My hair and face were still made up from the formal, but now I was dressed head to toe in black and leather. I looked dangerous, and I liked it. My stomach twisted slightly, the same feeling I had gotten when I'd gone shooting with Kate yesterday. There was something about looking like this, knowing that I would have a gun in my hand, that made me feel powerful. I knew that probably wasn't the healthiest of reactions, but I couldn't help it. I liked not feeling helpless, feeling like I was a force to be reckoned with. From that standpoint, I understood why Kate was the way she was.

I looked down at the pile of clothes I had discarded, folded on the counter. The black pumps had been abandoned by the car, and on top of the shining red fabric of my dress sat my yellow and red corsage. I stared at it longingly, instantly remembering the feel of Stiles's hands on my waist once more. But I pushed the thought from my mind. There were more important things to think about right now. I had to stop Peter, and I couldn't wait for Scott and Stiles to do it.

I scooped up my belongings and headed out of the bathroom. I paused as I passed Lydia's room, staring down at the flowers that Stiles had bought for her. There was no place for me to put them in the car, but I didn't want to discard them. I stopped in front of Lydia's door, lifting the corsage and doing my best to affix it to the door. They were meant to be her flowers anyway, and since I couldn't stay with her, I wanted to keep something of mine there, as if she would sense my presence. It also acted as a sign. Now Stiles would know that I was all right. If he ever decided to show up.

I glanced once more through the window to Lydia's room. She still hadn't moved, her skin getting paler with each passing minute. I didn't want to leave her alone, but she was being supervised and Jackson was around here somewhere. I had to leave before our mothers showed up. I'd be coddled and smothered and wouldn't be allowed to leave my mother's sight. But I had to get out of here. I had to help Lydia in any way I could, even if it just meant avenging her.

I pulled my gaze away from the window and headed back towards the elevator, pressing the down button firmly and taking a deep breath once the doors had closed.

It was time to kill an Alpha werewolf.

**A/N: Hey guys. So this is finally up. I'm posting a little off my schedule regiment. I usually don't post a chapter until the following one is finished, but I'm still writing 33. I wanted to get this up though, if nothing else because I'm having a kind of sucky day. Sorry that there was virtually no Stiles in this chapter, as some of you had hoped, but we're setting up for the final battle. It's gonna be intense. It might be a while before I get it up though, seeing as I can't seem to make myself happy with the way it's coming out. It's gonna take lots of editing.**

**Anyway, thank you, as usual, to my lovely readers, reviewers, followers and favoriters. Also to awesome people who make me things. I love my things. Thank you for the glowing reviews I received from SkittleMachine, FormofJane, TameTheGhosts, Nelle07, Guest, ellisbellisballs, xXbriannaXx, octoberisobel, enthusiastic-fan-and-reader, Dr Pantalons, Britt, MagicalMemories, ScornedxRose, suttonsays, xALFiex, Chella8181, DetectiveKateTodd, Maddie, Alexstarlight18, Isaac fan, lostintraduction, SammieLuvsFood, LynZann, GeekaZoid420 (you asked the most important of important questions. Yes to season three, because Stiles's hair), GuardianAngel45, SilenceFalling, alvirgil, PigfartsIsOnMars, cuteepiee1, letrie, kodt4e, xxxxninaxxxx, A Cool Guest (that was literally such a fun review to read, oh my god), A Weird Production, Lucy Greenhill, becca1130, GetsueiNoYume, Guest, ohsolauren, Guest, bbymojo, Ihavebadhair, Lojo2014o, Kelly1432, It Belongs In A Museum, IrisstoneHPfan, Guest, FlamePumpkin32, Abi S, Lewtam, and of course my babes, prettyargents and LionHeartMisfit. THAT'S 52 MOTHER FREAKING REVIEWS. You guys are the best. Thank you.**

**I can't wait to hear what you guys thought of the chapter. Let me know.**

**-Brittney**


	33. Chapter 33

Allison and I arrived back at the car around the same time. She'd changed into an outfit very similar to mine, only her shirt was a deep red, and instead of dog tags around her neck she was proudly displaying her family's hunting heirloom. Kate ushered us into the Kia, declaring that we had places to go and an Alpha to kill. I ended up getting squashed in the back with bags full of clothes, toiletries and weapons. They had packed to go to another state, after all, though it looked like Kate had tried to make a little more room for me while we'd been changing inside.

It was quiet for a decent stretch of time. Kate stared at the road in silent concentration, urging the car faster down the street. Allison sat in the passenger seat, arms crossed over her chest and staring out the window. I wasn't sure what she was thinking about, Scott most likely, possibly how much she hated me for lying to her, but either way it made me uncomfortable. After a few minutes of silence, I finally spoke up.

"Where are you keeping Derek?" I almost raised my own eyebrows as the question left my mouth. It was meant to be a simple question, asking where we were going, but I'd subconsciously put an edge in my voice that sounded almost threatening. I thought back to what Peter had said about Derek and I having a connection. Of course I was worried about him. But maybe I hadn't yet taken the time to realize just how much. I saw Kate smirk in the rearview mirror.

"Eh, he's fine," she assured me casually. "Just hanging around his house." I furrowed my brow, glaring quizzically at her reflection.

"You're keeping him at his own house?"

"Yeah, why not?" she replied with a shrug. "The manor might be in shambles, but his basement's intact. And I will say this, Derek can pack a punch. Didn't want to risk trying to keep him out long enough to take him somewhere else."

"So you just locked him in the basement?" I asked skeptically. Kate chortled, sending me a pointed look in the mirror.

"Oh please, sweetie. I'm not stupid." She shook her head lightly, the ends of her curls flicking around her shoulders. "He's restrained, obviously. Just a little electricity does a pretty good job of keeping 'em from shifting."

"Electricity?" I repeated, tensing up and shifting forward in my seat. "You're electrocuting him?!" Kate let out a short bark of laugh, and I saw her roll her eyes in the mirror.

"Come on, it's not like I've got him strapped to the death chair or anything," she dismissed. "It'll be easy enough for him to get out of when Scott shows up." The mention of Scott's name caught Allison's attention. She instantly froze, perking up in her seat even while she kept her eyes fixed on the window.

"Scott?" she repeated, desperately failing in pretending she didn't care. "Why would Scott show up?"

"Cause he needs backup," Kate reasoned. "Since his two little sidekicks are AWOL," she paused to shoot me a look in the rearview mirror, "he's gonna need someone else's help to stop Peter. He's not stupid. He's probably figured out where I stashed him by now." I was immediately unsettled by the calm tone of Kate's voice. Allison seemed to notice too, turning to look at her aunt.

"So what do we do?" she asked in a timid voice.

"Simple," Kate shrugged. "Peter wants Derek and Scott, so we're gonna catch them first." Allison and I both reacted instantly, replying in unison.

"I don't want to hurt Scott."

"I'm not hurting either of them!"

"Geez, calm down," Kate ordered, sparing a glance between the two of us and grinning. "I just said we'd catch 'em. But we have to get there before Peter does." Allison and I both nodded silently. I wasn't completely comfortable with the idea of 'catching' Scott and Derek. But in a way, I knew Kate was right. I had no idea where Derek's mind was right now, and if he and Scott were allowed to escape, Derek could easily go back to working with Peter. Scott wouldn't, but Peter had said himself that he didn't have a lot of patience for those who refused to cooperate. Letting Derek and Scott go could mean getting Scott killed. It would be better to keep an eye on him. With that reasoning in mind, I forced myself to refrain from objecting or asking questions for the rest of the ride. Unsurprisingly, Kate stopped the car before we got to the Hale house.

"Where are we?" Allison asked in confusion, following Kate's silent indication to get out of the car.

"Not far," was Kate's only answer. "We'll walk the rest of the way."

"Why?" Allison asked.

"Sadie?" Kate prompted. I raised my eyebrows as she opened the trunk. It actually took a few seconds to compute that she was deferring the question to me. I pursed my lips, tousling my hair absentmindedly.

"Quieter approach," I offered. "Less of a chance they'll hear us walking than the car, and we can't scare them off."

"'Atta girl!" Kate praised. She handed Allison her large black archery bag, tips of the bow peeking out from either end. "We arm ourselves and then sneak up on them, otherwise they scram. And trust me, werewolves are damn fast runners." I eyed the gun she handed me warily, refusing to accept it for a moment. Kate pursed her lips when she saw my hesitance. "Regular bullets, promise," she tried to console. "I'm not making you handle the big guns just yet." But I shook my head.

"I'm not going to hurt them," I said adamantly. Kate rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"Look, kid," she nearly snapped, "don't do anything you don't want to. But I'm not letting you walk into a hostile situation with two betas and an Alpha without some sort of protection. Take the gun." The order was firm, leaving no room for argument. I stared at the firearm for a few more seconds, but I knew she was right. I'd been stupid enough to try and handle one werewolf without a weapon that night, and it had landed Lydia in the hospital. I couldn't make that mistake again. Eventually I nodded, conceding to let Kate outfit me with the necessary weapons. I accepted the gun, flipping it in my hands as she grinned, ducking back inside the Kia for more.

It was honestly a few minutes before Kate seemed satisfied that we were protected. She just kept pulling out more guns, small knives, different arrows for Allison. It seemed never ending. But finally she closed the trunk, locking the car and waving a hand to indicate that Allison and I should follow her lead. We trailed after her through the woods, all padding quietly as we could to avoid rustling leaves or snapping twigs. Kate somehow managed to do it with a silent grace. She swaggered through the forest without making a sound, while Allison and I had to awkwardly tiptoe after her. It could have been worse, but I still envied Kate for her effortless talent.

We finally came to a stop on a hill in what felt like the middle of nowhere. I was confused for a moment before I spotted the hulking shadow in the distance. There was just enough moonlight to see it in detail, just few enough trees for a good view. Standing down the hill from us was a large, old house. Or rather, what was left of it. Charred, broken walls reached up into the sky, shattered, ashy windows reflecting the moonlight. There were three floors at one point, but now the building didn't even have a roof, leaving blackened beams of wood to point into the air like vicious, deadly spikes. Dead leaves and vines crawled up the chimney and the face of the house, climbing up the columns of the rickety looking front porch. I shuddered. It hadn't occurred to me that as involved as I had become with the werewolves of Beacon Hills, I still hadn't seen where it all started. I'd never seen Derek's old, decrepit house, and I almost wished I never did. It was all too easy to imagine him staring up at what used to be his home, remembering the fire and the flames, the smoke and the screams. I felt a painful pang of sympathy for him, his ever-present scowl suddenly making a bit more sense.

"Nice view, huh?" Kate's joking voice made me turn around. While I'd been staring out over the landscape, Kate had ushered Allison into position behind me. Several arrows had been stabbed into the ground, removed from Allison's quiver and ready to be picked up, strung, and shot at a moment's notice. Allison was kneeling on the grass next to them, screwing in each arrowhead by hand before propping them up in the dirt. She had a placid look of concentration on, like she was trying not to think about what she was doing. That was exactly how I felt.

"I wouldn't call it nice," I sighed, glancing back to the ruins before padding over to join the group.

"Eh, it was at one point," she commented, staring down at her gun as she checked that it was properly loaded. "Shame about the house, really."

"Shame about the _family_," I repeated, slightly incredulous. Kate raised her eyebrows for a moment and nodded her head to the side, more in consideration than agreement.

"I'm just saying it was a nice house," she defended with a shrug, snapping the gun and tucking it into her pocket. I shook my head, running my fingers through my hair. I knew that Kate felt prejudice against werewolves, and I didn't know much about Derek's family, but could she really have such little sympathy for an entire family that had perished? Before I could pursue my defense of the Hales however, Kate's head snapped up. Allison and I both froze, looking from her aunt to the surrounding woods.

"W-What is it?" Allison whispered nervously, but Kate immediately held up a finger to silence her. Allison and I both held our breath, stopping the large puffs of condensation that lifted into the cold, dark air from our mouths. After a moment, she nodded to herself, a slow smile spreading over her face.

"Here they come." She quickly pulled me behind her, crouching down next to Allison, who was kneeling in position with her bow. I peered ahead and low and behold, two figures emerged from the trees not too far from the front of the house. Even from a distance I could pick out Scott's floppy hair and Derek's broad stature. I let out an involuntary sigh of relief. At least for the moment, they were alright. Now all we had to do was keep an eye on them, keep them from being swayed by Peter before we could bring him down ourselves. "Okay, Allison," Kate continued, turning back to her niece. "Shoot Derek."

"What?!" I squeaked. Kate's arms shot out so quickly, I didn't have time to respond. One hand wrapped itself in a death grip around my wrist, and I was almost sure I could feel the flesh bruising instantly. The other hand clamped over my mouth, silencing my protests so as not to give away our position.

"Sadie, quiet," she hissed, so firmly that I was actually silenced. "Allison, shoot him."

"I—I thought you said we weren't going to hurt them," her niece replied warily, looking up at her with wide, fearful doe eyes.

"I said we were gonna catch them, and that's what we're doing," Kate maintained. "We can't let them get to the Alpha, and if you don't shoot, that's exactly what they're gonna do. Both of them. It's not gonna kill him, so just shoot." I kicked slightly, but Kate jerked right back, trying to keep me quiet. Allison glanced down to me, and I widened my eyes, pleading for her not to do it. But then Kate spoke the magic words. "Allison, we have to stop them, so either you shoot Derek or I have to shoot Scott." That made her make up her mind. Allison pursed her lips before snatching up one of her arrows. She loaded it into the compound bow Kate had supplied her with, pulling back the string and taking aim.

"Where?" she asked simply.

"Shoulder," Kate replied evenly, tugging me farther down into the shadows. Allison's bow let out a quiet twang, and I heard a gasp cut through the air as Derek's figure stumbled. I twisted in Kate's grasp, desperate to run to them, but she adjusted her arms, wrapping them around my torso to keep me still. Allison automatically reached for another arrow, stringing it up and aiming with a calm precision that set me completely on edge. "Now the leg," Kate instructed, in the same passive voice that both terrified and infuriated me. Allison released the string and Derek's body fell. He and Scott hadn't moved in the few seconds since the first hit, too stunned by the surprise attack to respond properly. Even after two hits, both seemed to be in shock. "Flash bulb," Kate ordered, and Allison raised her third arrow. "Now." It lodged itself into the bark of a tree near Scott's head, emitting a shower of bright white sparks that left an impression on my eyes even from this distance. I could hear Derek yell, and watched helplessly as Scott tumbled to the ground, blinded by the minor explosion. Kate's arms loosened around my torso, but she held fast to my wrist. "Natural talent," she complimented, with a pat on her niece's shoulder. The phrase made me freeze, Peter's voice ringing through my head in the same proud but dangerous tone. However, my pause made it all too easy for Kate to spin me around, grabbing me by the shoulders and forcing me to look into her face. "Sadie, listen to me," she ordered lowly. "I need you to stay focused, okay? We're here to kill Peter. Remember? The werewolf that hospitalized your best friend? Killing him comes before everything else, okay?" My mouth opened or closed a few times, looking back and forth between her fearsome face to the dark figures that were my friends writhing on the forest floor. "Sadie!"

"Yeah," I choked out, nodding slightly. "Peter comes first."

"Good." She immediately released me, rubbing my leather-covered shoulder slightly. "He could be here any minute, so make sure you keep your gun up and ready." I nodded again, pulling the firearm out and reassuring myself that it was loaded. I exchanged a quick, nervous look with Allison as she stood, slinging her quiver over her back. She lifted her chin slightly, either determination or defiance, and followed her aunt down the hill without a word.

I let out quiet sigh of despair. But no. I had to keep myself together. Kate was right. The arrows wouldn't kill Derek. He'd be pissed as all hell, but he'd gotten impaled for us and still cooperated. It was just to keep him still, I tried to reason. Once he and Scott were safe and out of the way, Kate, Allison and I could take down Peter. And then everything could go back to normal. But I had to stay alert. I had to stay alive. I could worry about the rest later.

I pursed my lips, taking a deep focusing breath. Then I tightened my grip on the gun, keeping it pointed at the ground in front of me as I followed Allison and Kate down the hill. My long strides let me catch up in no time, but Kate's hand on my arm stopped me from moving past her. She'd let Allison take the lead, who was now marching into the clearing in front of the dilapidated Hale Manor with a boiling fury. Derek had collapsed face down just to her right, but Kate's arm stopped me from checking on him. Scott was in the middle of the clearing, scrambling backwards and away from Allison. Or at least, I knew it was Scott. But at the same time it wasn't.

For the second time that night it struck me just how far behind I was. I had known about werewolves for months. I had been attacked, chased, charged with keeping my friends safe from each other and from themselves. I'd helped Scott learn to control his powers, sat nearby in case of emergencies on full moon nights. But not once had I ever actually seen one of my friends transformed.

The figure on the ground before me wore Scott's clothes—his navy blue T-shirt, his hoodie, his jacket, his pants. It had Scott's skin tone, Scott's fluffy hair, Scott's slightly uneven jawline. But at the same time…it wasn't Scott. Because Scott didn't have sharp claws instead of fingernails. Scott didn't have tufts of coarse hair—_fur_ growing down the sides of his cheeks and chin. Scott didn't have bulging eyebrows whose muscles grew down into his nose, making his face look almost flat with a snout. Scott didn't have large fangs that grew up above the rest of his teeth. And Scott didn't have golden eyes that shined in the darkness, bright and luminescent despite their distance from me.

"Allison, I can explain." I was almost taken aback when Scott spoke, his voice snapping me back to reality with its normalcy. He sounded slightly garbled, still getting used to speaking around his fangs, but it was still undeniably him. It was still Scott.

"Stop lying," Allison ordered, continuing to advance on him. "For once, stop lying." Kate came to a halt at the edge of the clearing, motioning that I should stay behind her. Reluctantly, I obeyed, and I was forced to watch the scene play out in silence.

"I was gonna tell you the truth at the formal," Scott pleaded, continuing to crawl backwards, towards the house. He moved blindly and clumsily, eyes still closed as he tried to regain his vision from the assault of the flash bulb. "I was gonna tell you everything. Because, everything that I said… Everything that I did…"

"Was to protect me," Allison finished skeptically. She halted in front of him, arm gripping the strap of her quiver firmly, in search of some form of security.

"Yes!" Scott agreed hopefully. But Allison just shook her head slightly.

"I don't believe you," she replied, but the slight break in her voice was enough to show that it wasn't completely true. She wanted to believe him, and there would always be that sliver of doubt. But right now she was too angry, she was too hurt to be reasoned with. But that didn't mean that we couldn't try.

"Yeah you do, Allison," I interrupted, stepping forward. "All any of us were trying to do was protect you. Trying to protect you from getting hurt, from having to choose your family." Allison turned half around to look at me, her eyes shining with tears in the moonlight. I could see her throat swell as she swallowed a sob, trying to keep her head clear as her mind battled with itself, trying to decide whom to believe. But she wasn't the one to speak next.

"Sadie?" My head turned to the right, where Derek was still collapsed stomach-down on the dirt. He looked up at me with wide eyes, glancing back and forth between my face, and the gun that I was still gripping firmly in my hands. "What are you doing?" I pursed my lips, taking a moment myself to look down at the firearm before turning back to him.

"I'm sorry," I said earnestly. "We just had to stop you from getting to Peter first. We have to stop him, Derek."

"That's what we're trying to do!" he argued, trying to push himself up onto his knees. Kate half-laughed behind me, taking this as her cue to wander into the clearing herself.

"Oh my God, please shut up," she begged. "Someone shoot him before I have to shoot myself." Allison and I both looked at each other immediately before turning back to her aunt.

"You…You said we were just gonna catch them," Allison reminded her, bow hanging limply at her side. Kate rolled her eyes.

"We did that," she conceded. "Now we're gonna kill them. See?" Before I could even comprehend what was happening, Kate raised her gun and pulled the trigger. There was a bang that echoed through the trees and Derek immediately fell back to the forest floor, the bullet sinking right through his chest. "Not that hard."

I screamed, almost dropping the gun altogether as I made to run for Derek's limp body. But for the second time that night, Kate stopped me, grabbing my arm and yanking me back to her side. I stared back and forth between her and Derek, mouth agape in absolute horror. She'd shot him. She'd shot Derek, and then shrugged as if she'd only swatted a fly. And we were still moving, Kate towing me toward the front porch, where Allison and Scott remained almost completely frozen. Scott's eyes were wide with fear, his body trembling as he unsuccessfully willed himself to move backwards. Allison's mouth hung open, but she didn't look scared, not yet. She looked as though she were still trying to process the situation, like she didn't quite understand what her aunt was asking her to do. I wanted to yell. I wanted to tell her to take Scott and run. But Derek was down, and Kate had me grasped in one hand and a gun in the other. I knew better than to test her twice.

"Oh no," she groaned as she looked at Allison's blank face. She let out a 'tsk' of disappointment as we walked right past her. "I know that look. That's the you're-gonna-have-to-do-it-yourself look." But instead of shooting Scott point blank, like she had with Derek, Kate holstered her gun, pulling me a little closer to her. "Actually, you mind helping me out, Sadie?" Kate grabbed my right hand, wrapping herself around me and guiding my arms until my gun was pointed directly at Scott's chest. I gaped. She couldn't be serious…

"Kate," Allison gasped, finally finding her voice and sounding appropriately terrified. "Kate, what are you doing?!" But her aunt didn't answer. Instead, she briefly released me, using one arm to shove Allison to the ground before snatching my arm back, keeping the gun leveled at her target. At _our_ target.

"Come on, Sadie," she coaxed, her grip on my hands firm, but not as restraining as it had been earlier. "Just pull the trigger. Everything will be fine."

"N-No," I disputed in a squeaky, frantic voice, shaking my head slightly. But I didn't dare try and move the gun. With Kate's hands so close to my own, any struggle could cause the gun to go off anyway. I knew Scott could heal, but I wasn't ready to take test just how much he could handle by shooting him through the heart.

"Sadie, shoot him," she ordered, but in a soft, persuasive tone.

"No," I repeated, lips trembling as I stared down at my terrified friend. "I-It's just Scott."

"Sweetheart, we're talking about a werewolf," she argued, shifting closer so she could speak into my ear, her head hovering over my shoulder. "You never got to know Scott. All you ever knew was this thing that looked like him. Look at him now, Sadie." She pointed with the gun slightly, and I gasped as the barrel moved, gesturing to his morphed face but not going off. "This is what he really is. That is not Scott McCall."

I looked down at the boy before me, cowering on the dirt and the dead leaves in the cold. My eyes roamed over the muscular, slightly misshapen face, the fur, the fangs poking out from beneath his lips. I narrowed my eyes as his golden irises stared up at me, shining bright just like the ones that usually haunted my nightmares. They weren't red, sure, but they were still unnatural. They were still not right. And it was so much easier now to see that he wasn't human. That he wasn't natural. How could this be Scott?

"Sadie," he whimpered, noting my hesitance, or the skip in my heartbeat. I pursed my lips again, wincing at the physical pain that his fear caused me. I closed my eyes for a moment. "Please." It was so much easier to hear him when I couldn't see him. To hear Scott's voice. Because no matter what he looked like, it was Scott who was sitting in front of me. And I was pointing a gun at his heart.

"I won't do it," I replied, quietly but determined. "I won't kill Scott." Kate sighed into my ear, and I felt her grip tighten on my wrists for just a fraction of a second before she loosened it once more.

"Fine, fine," she agreed, and though I couldn't see her face, I could hear the eye roll in her voice. "Don't worry about killing him, I'll take care of it. Just shoot him."

"Wha-?" I started. "No! What do you…?"

"Hm, Sadie," she sang in a quiet, sing song voice, the knowing tone pushing me farther to the edge. "You know, you and I are a lot alike. And I know that you might be experiencing a little reluctance. I get that. This is your whole belief system crumbling right now. But how do you feel?"

"Scared!" I answered with a desperate squeak. But instead of making her back off on the pressure, this seemed to urge her on.

"Exactly," she replied with a smile. "But you're not afraid of him. You're not afraid of getting hurt. So what are you afraid of, Sadie?"

"I…" I paused, mouth gaping open and closed as I fought to answer the question and come up with a solution to the entire situation at the same time. "I don't want to hurt him…"

"But you could," she emphasized. "You have the power to hurt him, to protect yourself. It's only scary because it's new." I swallowed thickly, eyes watering slightly as I stared down at the transformed face of my friend. "Okay, forget about Scott. Close your eyes," Kate instructed, moving her hand over mine on the gun.

"Sadie, no," Scott pleaded. But my eyes fluttered shut of their own accord. I took a deep, steadying breath, trying to keep my breathing even.

"Good," Kate commended, a whisper into my ear. "Now you feel this?" Her grip tightened over my hand, pressing the gun farther into my palm, squeezing my fingers around it without pulling on the trigger. "This is what gives you that power. Remember shooting yesterday? Remember how good that felt?" I thought back to it—had it really only been the night before? How good it had felt to shoot my insecurities out of the air. I'd felt powerful. I felt unstoppable. I nodded slightly and I could almost feel Kate's triumphant grin behind me. "You can feel like that all the time," she coaxed. "You've just got to accept that you like it, and get over all those pesky inhibitions." I took another shaky breath, trying to suppress that knot in my stomach. But it was too late. The uneasy, chilling feeling of consideration was already rising up into my chest. "You ever see a werewolf heal before?" she asked. Automatically, I shook my head, my eyes fluttering open once more. "Okay. Just shoot him…in the knee…" she slowly guided my hand down, pointing the gun at the hinge of Scott's right leg. His chest was heaving, but everything in the clearing seemed to have stilled, leaving us all completely incapable of movement, either to advance or retreat. "He's a shifter, Sadie," Kate reminded me quietly. "It won't kill him. He'll be fine. But you know you want to know how it feels."

And as terrifying as it was, I couldn't honestly say she was wrong. There's always a part that wonders what it would feel like to do something terrible. You never do—but you wonder. What would it feel like to inflict that kind of pain on someone? Would I feel just as horrified? Or worse, would there be a flicker of…satisfaction? Of pride? Proving that I was more powerful for once. Not just some weak human kid, but a strong human girl who was capable of taking care of herself and her family and her friends. A strong human girl who couldn't be toyed with or manipulated, because she would fight back with a vengeance. A strong human girl like Kate was. And he didn't look like Scott. She was right. He was a shifter. It wouldn't kill him, but it would satisfy my curiosity, give me just a taste of the power Kate felt every day. The knowledge that she had that power was what made her so confident. It was what gave her that self-assured air that I couldn't achieve with my own insecurities. But if I could be just feel a bit more powerful… Kate had said we weren't that different. Kate had said we were a lot alike. I could leave all of my self-doubts behind. I could feel formidable if I got just that taste of power. If I shot Scott.

Kate's hand tightened around mine, guiding my finger back to the trigger.

I wouldn't do it. I _shouldn't_ do it. But maybe if I did…

"Kate!" The voice ran through the darkness, and I jumped in Kate's grasp. All of our heads snapped to the left, looking towards the figure that was emerging out of the shadows. Mr. Argent had gone completely unnoticed in the chaos, leaving him free to sneak up to the scene before anyone could stop him. He came to a halt on the edge of the clearing, just a few yards away. His face was stony, rigid and remorseful as he stared ahead at his sister. "I know what you did." My brow furrowed in confusion as I stared at him, but apparently Kate knew exactly what he was talking about. Her arms went rigid around my frame, freezing in place as if any sudden movements would reveal the topic to everyone. "Put the gun down," Mr. Argent ordered. I tried to lower my arm, but Kate was still gripping my hand, forcing it to continue aiming at Scott.

"I did what I was told to do," she replied darkly. I glanced at her over my shoulder, completely at a loss as to what was going on. Allison looked equally confused, Scott a little less so.

"No one asked you to murder innocent people," her brother shot. "There were children in that house, ones who were human." I followed his gaze, looking up to the torched shell of a house in front of me. Suddenly, my skin felt icy with realization. Kate referring to Derek as an old friend. Kate knowing Peter. Kate's appreciation for the house and complete disregard for the lives lost in the fire.

I slowly turned around in her arms, a sick feeling quickly growing in my stomach as I realized what exactly Chris was saying. Kate had killed them. Kate had burned Derek's house to the ground with his family inside. Kate and whoever else she'd gotten to help—the bus driver, the video store clerk, the two men who'd run into Stiles and Scott in the woods—had set the building to flames without a single thought as to who would be inside. Or maybe they had thought, and just didn't care. Kate's hatred of werewolves was so strong that she didn't care about collateral damage. She didn't care about any humans, old or young, guilty or innocent, that got in the way as long as she was able to wipe out the shifters like her ex-boyfriend. And Derek was a shifter. He was a werewolf, and in Kate's eyes that meant he was lethal. Inevitably he would hurt someone the way that she had been hurt, and she was determined to stop him from doing it—whatever the cost.

I looked up at her in horror. My best friend's cool aunt, the one who had been like a sister to her, the one who had been like a mentor to me. She'd set an example, forced me to loosen up, to believe in myself, had given me boy advice and consoled me when I was sad. She'd allowed me to look up to her—only to try and turn me into her. She'd forced me to point a gun at one of my friends, coaxed me to shoot him for the hell of it with a smile in her voice. And then I realized that it wasn't just that Kate didn't care. Oh no. She'd been hunting werewolves efficiently and ruthlessly for so long… She actually enjoyed it. She enjoyed causing pain and destruction, because it made her feel unstoppable. She'd enjoyed burning down Derek's house, killing his family… And she wanted me to enjoy it too…

Kate had the decency to look at least minimally abashed when I finally met her eye. She glanced down at my wide, terrified eyes for only a second before averting her gaze, her lips pressing into a thin line as she swallowed.

"Shut up, Chris," she growled. But Mr. Argent refused to relent.

"Look what you're doing now!" he barked. "You're forcing a girl to point a gun at her friend, a sixteen year old boy, with no proof he spilled human blood."

"He's a shifter, Chris!" Kate bit back, her grip around my wrist tightening once more. "If he hasn't already hurt someone, he will. I'm not taking that chance."

"Then why are you making Sadie do it?" Allison's father pressed. "What do you think this is gonna do to her, huh? She'll be plagued by guilt…"

"And then she'll get over it," Kate cut him off, straightening my arm and moving the gun back to point at Scott's chest. I whimpered. "She'll get over it just like I got over it and it will make her stronger. She can handle it." I bit my lip hard, staring down at Scott in fear. Every trace of my previous line of thought had been erased from my head, leaving a hollow place and a sick feeling in my stomach. Chris glared at his sister.

"We go by the code," he said firmly. _"Nous chassons ceux qui nous chassent."_ The unexpected foreign phrase threw me slightly, but thankfully, Allison understood.

"We hunt those who hunt us," she whispered to herself, but in the tense, quiet clearing, it was loud enough for everyone to hear. I tried to loosen my grip on the firearm, to slip my hand out from under Kate's, but she wouldn't let me. Instead, she reaffirmed her grip, fingers forcing mine to press into the trigger. I fought against the pressure, letting out a choked sob when the gun let out a slight _"click" _despite my efforts. But Mr. Argent distracted her once more, raising his own gun, which clicked similarly.

"Put the gun down," he ordered. Kate froze, but made no move to follow his instructions. Her chest moved against my back, squaring off her shoulders to facing him challengingly.

_Bang!_

I jumped slightly, gasping and rocking back into Kate as Mr. Argent's gun went off. The bullet took a considerable chunk out of the tree behind us, inches over our heads. We all stared at the trunk for a moment before turning to look back at him. Allison's father looked remorseful but resolved, and I could feel Kate's disbelief and incredulity rolling off her in waves.

"Before I put you down," he finished. Kate let out a scoff of disbelief, but after a few seconds, her grip loosened marginally. Taking a chance, I tried to lower our arms once more, and this time, she relented. I let out a deep sigh of relief when barrel was final pointing down at the ground, and Scott began panting nervously. But the relief didn't last more than a second.

A loud creaking noise ripped through the silence, making everyone's heads snap towards the shell of a manor house once more. Kate immediately aimed my gun once more, only this time it was pointing at the front door, which had suddenly creaked open. She squeezed my wrist slightly, and I recognized the silent instruction to hold my aim. I nodded, bringing my other arm up to steady the firearm before she relinquished me completely, pulling her own gun out of its holster.

"Allison, get back," Mr. Argent ordered, readjusting his own aim to point at the scorched door. Allison and Scott both scrambled to their feet, the first shuffling behind Kate and I while the latter fell into crouch, preparing himself for the impending fight.

"What is it?" Allison asked, her voice tight with fear and desperation. She shifted on her feet, and if I hadn't been holding the gun, I would have turned around to hug her. It was Scott who answered, bristling as his wolf eyes flashed in the darkness.

"It's the Alpha."

The words seemed to coax Peter out like a challenge. Allison barely had time to raise her bow before a dark shape shot out into the darkness, too fast to register the actual creature. We all shifted around, subconsciously beginning to form a circle with out backs to each other, eyes darting around the dark woods before us. The Alpha dashed by again, and I tried to shoot. Unfortunately, the only things the bullet managed to tear apart were a few dead leaves coating the ground. Allison jumped next to me, and everyone turned to glance at me with surprised eyes. The next second, Mr. Argent hit the forest floor, knocked off his feet as Peter dashed by once more. Before any of us could do a thing to check on him, Allison let out a yelp. She flew back, he bow skittering away over the leaves.

"Allison?!" I called, turning around and trying to find where she'd landed. Unfortunately, that gave Peter his perfect opening. Immediately, I was sent flying through the air, crash landing in a pile next to Allison. My injured shoulder slammed into the ground, forcing a squeal of pain out of my throat. Tears blurred my vision, and I went to tighten my grip on my gun. But it was no longer in my hands. I cursed under my breath, letting my nails dig into my palms as my fingers attempted to close around a weapon that was what might as well have been miles away. There was another grunt as Scott was sent careening to the dirt, leaving Kate to stand alone in a circle of discarded bodies.

"Come on!" she bellowed, and I could hear the rustling of leaves as she pivoted back and forth, trying to keep an eye out for the Alpha even while her back up was down. "Come on!"

_Bang!_

My head shot up once more, sending a throbbing pain through my skull. The quick motion caused my vision to completely black out for a moment, but I was just able to see the tall figure in the red shirt grabbing onto Kate's arm, twisting it back and forcing the gun to go off while it was still pointed away from his face. Kate let out a pained grunt, and I could practically hear bones snapping from across the clearing. She continued to groan as the color ebbed back into my vision, creeping in from the edges until I was finally able to see clearly once more. By that time, Kate had been hurled onto the front porch and Peter was lifting her from the ground by her neck. Allison fumbled to grab my arm, tripping over herself as she tried to stand. Peter dragged Kate into the shadows just as Allison managed to regain her footing.

"No!" she screeched. She took off, boots sliding over piles of dead leaves, and it took me a fraction of a second to jump to my feet.

"Kate!" I screamed after her, hot on Allison's heels. We burst through the door of the old house, piling into the black and dusty front room. But I barely had a moment to take in the rickety staircase, with steps missing and broken banisters, or the way the moonlight flooded the broken floor through the shattered windows. I had to follow Allison's lead to the left, and suddenly my breath caught in my throat.

It had probably been a living room at one point, or a den. There were a few scattered tables, splintering or overturned, and a sofa that'd been dragged across the floor. It looked old and weathered, but not burned, making me wonder whether or not it had been something Derek brought with him when he decided to re-inhabit the ruins. A broken mirror sat in the corner, scattering the moonlight that poured through open spots in the roof. The windows were dirty, with lank, torn curtains that were still hanging by threads. And right across from us, in the middle of all the ruin and destruction, stood Peter and Kate.

He was just taller than her, looking almost relaxed besides the quietly seething rage. He had an arm wrapped around Kate, his hand still poised at her neck, claws grazing her throat and ready to tear her apart if any of us made one wrong move. But I knew in the pit of my stomach that it wouldn't take any move. He'd kill her either way, no matter what we did, because she'd taken his family away and laughed while they burned.

"She is beautiful, Kate," he observed, eyes roaming over Allison as we came to a dead halt only two or three steps into the room. "She looks like you… Probably not as damaged." Kate panted in his grasp, her breath shaky as she tried to keep herself from moving too much, to keep her breaths shallow and her throat away from his claws. I pursed my lips, an attempt to stop myself from calling out. But Peter diverted his attention to me anyway, his eyes glinting and a smile growing over his face. "Sadie, on the other hand…" He trailed off, cocking his head slightly to the side as everyone in the room took a moment to look to me. "She's got such potential. You saw it too, but…she's strong. Right now, she's not damaged enough for either of us." Peter nodded slightly in my direction, which I assumed was supposed to be somewhat congratulatory, praise because I hadn't yet given in to either of them—the werewolf or the hunter. "Which is why I'm going to give you a chance to save her. Both of them. So they can reach their potential." He took a shaky breath, staring me down with those dangerously blue eyes while he spoke to the woman in his clutches. "Apologize," he rasped out, and the pain behind the one word actually shook me to my core. Someone in the room let out a gasping breath, a broken one, like you'd hear before crying, but I couldn't be sure who it was. It might have been Kate, desperate for life, or Allison, tormented by the sight of her aunt on the brink of death. It might even have been me. But Peter went on, his voice actually breaking. "Say you're sorry for decimating my family, for leaving me burned and broken for _six years.._. Say it…and I'll let them live…"

Kate didn't answer immediately. She stared at the wall in front of her, trembling breaths making her chest heave. Allison sniffled into the silence, clearly frightened by her aunt's silence. But I knew that Kate couldn't answer. Not truthfully at least. She'd pushed me to the end of a very dangerous cliff, and when I looked over the edge, I'd seen a part of her that I hadn't seen before—a part of _me_ that I'd never wanted to see. Kate would never be truly sorry for what she'd done, even to save our lives. Because she'd enjoyed it.

Kate's eyes wandered back over to us, look Allison and I over for one last time.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. It didn't sound fake, but that's because it wasn't really an apology towards Peter. It felt like more of an apology towards us, Kate's girls. She'd never be able to actually apologize for all the things she did, and at least in her final moments, she regretted it.

The room stood in silence for a moment, only the sounds of heavy breathing cutting through the air. Kate gasped for breath as Peter tightened his hand around her neck. Then he raised his eyebrows slightly, and in one fluid motion, he ripped his claws right through the flesh of her throat.

Blood spattered across the windows and all of the tension left Kate's face, her jaw dropping in a scream of pain that never left her body. Even though I'd known it was coming, I instinctively jumped back, shrieking as the body before me fell to the floor. Allison rushed forward a few steps, and I barely registered her gasp of horror, the sobs she choked back as she looked from her aunt's body to her murderer, still standing. My hand flew up over my mouth, cutting off the scream and physically trying to hold in my own tears. Peter was standing tall, his eyes closed and head tilted slightly back, as if he were drinking in as much of the moment as he could. He breathed deeply through his nose, relishing the feeling of his completed revenge. Allison let out another half-sob, bringing Peter back to reality.

"I don't you about you, girls, but that apology…" He trailed off for a moment, staring down at Kate's limp body. He'd tossed her slightly to the side, letting her crumple awkwardly onto the dusty floor, her head banging into the wood and her arms splayed crookedly around her. Even in the darkness I could see the blood started to seep across the ground and had to force myself to look away from her vacant expression. Peter's expression, on the other hand, was anything but vacant. He looked almost placidly menacing, twisting his head toward us in a way the reminded me implicitly of a snake. "…didn't sound very sincere." He took a single step towards us, and that was all it took to move me to action.

"No," I spat. My voice was still watery, but there was a ferocity behind it that surprised even me. I strode forward, forcing Allison behind my back and placing myself between her and Peter. "You got your revenge. Allison hasn't done anything and you're not going to hurt her. Stop." And to my surprise, he did stop. His head was still ducked low, threatening in the way that he glared at me from underneath his lashes. But he immediately stopped his advance, pausing in the middle of the floor. I was confused, but proud for a moment. Until I heard the growls behind me.

I glanced to my left, where Scott was moving out of the shadows, crouched and ready to spring. A deeper growl on my other side caused my head to whip right. Derek moved slowly into the room, shirt ripped and bloody, but otherwise completely unharmed. His vibrant blue eyes flicked up to meet mine, and I barely suppressed a sigh of relief. I'd seen Derek go through worse, but I didn't know what was in Kate's gun, and for the few moments I'd been able to spare, I'd been afraid he was actually dead.

"Run," Scott ordered. Allison and I didn't need to be told twice. I immediately snatched up her arm, yanking her back into the hallway and out of the way of the impending fight. She followed without putting up a fight, dashing out the front door as we both tried to ignore the growing roars behind us. We both froze when we reached the front of the property again, out of the fight but completely at a loss for what to do. It was a few seconds before Allison spotted the crumpled body of her father, still lying unconscious in the dirt.

"Dad!" she cried, dashing over to him. I moved to follow her, but a particularly loud roar behind me made me think twice. Allison could revive her father on her own. But we couldn't sit outside and wait for the fight to end weaponless.

I stopped midstride and turned in the opposite direction, eyes scanning the forest floor for anything irregular. I quickly padded back to where I'd been standing before I was thrown, turning on the spot as I tried to imagine the gun's trajectory from my hand as Peter threw me. It took a few seconds of searching, but after kicking around the dead leaves for a while, my boot finally made contact with something much more solid. I brushed the withered foliage away, dusting off the gun Kate had given me and looking it over. I'd only shot it once, and while regular bullets were almost completely useless against werewolves, it was the best line of defense we currently had.

Allison was still trying in vain to reawaken her father, and by the sound of it, Scott and Derek weren't doing much better inside. Allison looked up as someone in the house let out a howl of pain, but it was impossible to tell who it had been. I shifted anxiously on my feet, biting my lip and rustling the leaves around me. Allison glanced back at me, noticing my antsiness.

"Sadie, no," she pleaded, immediately recognizing my line of thought. "No! You cannot go in there!" My eyes glanced around the forest, waiting for some other sign to jump out, some kind of help. But nothing came. I gripped the gun tight, letting my fingers slide over the cool, hard surface until another yelp pierced through the air. My resolve broke.

"Stay out here," I ordered. I ignored the way she called my name, protesting even while she refused to leave her father's side. It was that family loyalty I was counting on to go inside unrestrained. I cocked the gun, holding it firmly down in front of me as I moved as quickly and quietly as possible back up the porch and into the house.

As I had suspected, Derek and Scott were not doing so well in their fight against the Alpha. I eased into the front room, trying to keep to the shadows for as long as I could. Derek jumped at Peter, who promptly sent him careening to the floor, landing flat on his chest and knocking all of the air out of his stomach. Scott roared from somewhere to the right, but before he could advance, Peter had picked up Derek like a ragdoll. He launched him across the room and straight into Scott, sending both boys tumbling to the ground in a tangled mess and a puff of dust. Peter snarled, completely focused on his opponents and giving me the perfect opportunity to make my move.

"Hey!" I barked. Peter's head snapped toward me, face half-morphed into a grotesque snout with bulging eyebrows and flashing eyes. But I couldn't let it phase me. Instead, I raised the gun and fired—once, twice—into his chest. Peter stumbled back, glaring down at the blood as it seeped onto the bright red dress shirt. But as I had predicted, the bullets had little effect. Peter raised his head slowly, face morphing once more as he let out a low, feral growl. He crouched, poised to jump, and was promptly knocked to the left.

Derek had sprung out of nowhere, pouncing on his uncle with a ferocious roar. But in his attempt to protect me he'd made the same mistake he'd made at the hospital. Peter, while slightly taken off guard by the attack, was able to use Derek's momentum against him, simply grabbing his shirt and tossing him to the side. Derek flew into the front wall, his head colliding harshly with the splintering wood to the wall before he fell motionless to the floor.

Peter turned back to face me, but Scott was already running forward, baring his fangs and snarling as he collided directly with Peter's chest. Unfortunately, Peter absorbed the force of the attack and remained standing, wrapping his arms around Scott's torso to lock him in place. Then he brought his knee up—one, two, three times into his chest, temporarily breaking a rib or two and effectively knocking all of the air out of him. He threw him against a wall, his fist smashing into the plaster as Scott just managed to duck out of the way of the attack. He popped up behind him, slamming Peter into the wall into his place. He landed a few good hits before Peter was able to retaliate, growling and punching Scott squarely in the jaw. He used the moment of Scott's recovery time to grab him by the throat, but Scott simply punched him in the jaw once more. Peter roared as he half-morphed again, and I looked desperately for some shot, even just as a distraction. But with Scott so close to the Alpha and already doing so badly, I didn't want to take any chances. Instead, I watched helplessly as Scott punched Peter again. But the blow had no effect except to make Peter even more enraged than he already was. With a final snarl, Peter spun, building up momentum before he hurled Scott across the room, perfectly in my direction. But I had little to worry about for my own safety. Scott collided into the lip of the arch in front of me, which made a sickening crack, before his body slammed into the floor at my feet. I let out an involuntary gasp, falling to my knees next to him.

"Scott?!" I gasped with worry, but he only had the energy to raise a hand in assurance, focusing on trying to get the air back into his chest. A rumbling roar made my head snap back up, the sight before me rendering me frozen, with one hand comfortingly on Scott's back while the other tightened around my gun in fear.

Peter stood alone in the center of the room, head thrashing back and forth as he began to transform. I only caught flashes—the snout progressively getting longer, the fangs growing from his jaw, the color bleeding into his eyes, becoming brighter and more deadly with each passing second. A tearing sound ripped through the air, and Peter doubled over, still growling and snapping his jaw as the seams of his leather jacket split. I grabbed Scott's hand, helping him up into a crouching position while we both kept our eyes on the Alpha before us.

"Go," Scott finally breathed, but I shook my head slightly.

"Scott, I can't leave y-…"

"Sadie, go!" he ordered. A particularly loud growl from Peter punctuated the statement, and I was forced to relent. I nodded, casting one last glance at Derek's prone body before I sprinting for the door.

I completely disregarded the porch steps, leaping over them in one bound and skidding slightly on the pileup of foliage beyond. Allison's head snapped up at the sound, hair flying around as she turned to see who had made the noise. She relaxed only marginally when she saw it was me. She'd pulled her father's head into her lap, and while it was clear he was breathing, he was obviously in no conscious state to help us. I clicked the gun's safety back on before dashing toward her, sliding the last few feet on my knees.

"Is he…?" I began to ask, but Allison cut me off.

"H-He's fine, he's alive. I just—I don't know how to wake him up. Sadie, you have to help me wake him up!"

"Okay, okay," I tried to say soothingly. "Um…uh…hit him."

"What?!" she yelped, jerking her head to look at me with reproachful eyes.

"We have to wake him up, so hit him!" The hand that wasn't currently responsible for holding my gun waved about in desperation, and it occurred to me in the back of my mind that Stiles was probably rubbing off on me.

"I can't hit him!" she objected. "He's my dad! He'd kill me!"

"Allison," I snapped. "Without your dad's help, the Alpha will kill you instead. Hit him." Allison was practically shaking, glancing from me to her unconscious father. Finally, she nodded and began lightly slapping her dad's face.

"Dad? Dad! Come on, Dad, please, we really need you to be awake right now." I nearly rolled my eyes, and was about to reprimand her for being so timid when a loud smash shattered through the relative silence of the woods.

Allison and I both jumped, looking up as Scott's body flew through the window of the Hale house, quickly followed by the Alpha himself. Allison's jaw dropped, and she made a choking sound of horror as she looked at the big, bad Alpha werewolf for the first time. Shards of glass flew in every direction, and Peter let out another ear-splitting roar as he pounced on Scott. The beta let out a strangled yell as Peter grabbed him by the shirt, lifting him up into the air and baring his fangs in his face. Scott's panting could be heard all the way from our spot on the edge of the forest. Then he growled, bringing his feet up and kicking Peter in the chest. The Alpha promptly dropped him, allowing Scott to regain his footing while the hulking werewolf stumbled backwards. He might have been stronger, but Scott was faster and more agile, which he finally seemed to be using to his advantage. This development obviously upset Peter, who crawled to his feet and roared once more, ready to jump again. But before he could, a car horn blared, making us all pause and turn.

Completely unnoticed by any of us, Jackson's Porsche had driven straight up to the scene, the headlights flooding the clearing with bright light. Stiles and Jackson both stumbled out, and without wasting a moment, Stiles launched something at the Alpha werewolf. It tumbled through the air, finally colliding with the Alpha's claw, where Peter caught it with ease. I recognized the murky liquid inside the Erlenmeyer flask almost instantly, and was immediately torn between jubilation that Stiles had thought of it, and horror that the plan hadn't actually worked.

I did it without really thinking. There was no thought process, only pure instinct. One second I was staring at the towering werewolf with a self-igniting Molotov cocktail in his grasp, and the next I was staring down a target, and my arm was rising of it's own accord. My feet spread into a ready stance, and then I raised the gun, cocked it and fired in one fluid motion. There was a resounding bang as the gun went off, and in almost the same instant, the glass in Peter's hand shattered.

He screamed as the dangerous mixture of chemicals ignited, bursting into flames that licked up his arm and scorched the entire limb with fire. The Alpha stumbled back, and I stepped forward, shooting again in an effort to keep him from falling into the house. The last thing we needed was to set the manor up in flames, Kate and Derek's bodies still inside. Scott at least seemed to realize what I was doing, and he called Allison's name with urgency before tossing her bow to her. Allison caught it with surprising ease, and immediately notched an arrow that lodged itself in Peter's shoulder. He screeched again, stumbling away from the house and staring down at his arm in agony. Jackson took his chance, launching the second bomb at the creature. Lacrosse skills kicking in, the flask hit Peter dead on, shattering against his chest and making him shriek as the flames completely engulfed his body. His body twisted and contorted, as if he were trying to shake the flames off to no avail. He roared to the sky, turning blindly and launching himself towards Allison and I. My friend scrambled backwards, tripping over herself and falling to the ground as I emptied the rest of my magazine into the Alpha's burning flesh. But it wasn't enough. I vaguely heard someone yell before a figure jumped up, kicking Peter in the chest and sending him stumbling in the opposite direction. The Alpha swayed dangerously on his feet, tripping around a tree until he came to a shaky stop on the other side of the clearing. He stood still for a moment, the flames already beginning to die down and reveal the scorched black skin underneath. The singed fur faded away, returning to its natural state of flesh, though it was now bloodied and burned beyond repair. The snout ebbed away, and Peter was semi-human once more. And then he collapsed, falling like a dead weight to the forest floor and leaving us in utter silence.

I have no idea how long we stood there. Scott was frozen in a crouch in the middle of the clearing, Jackson and Stiles stock still by the car. Allison slowly stood behind me, walking to my side as we all tried to catch our breath, staring at the remaining flames that reached up towards the moon.

It felt like a lifetime before anyone moved, but in reality, it was probably only seconds. Allison took a tentative step forward, leaving her bow and arrow behind with her father's body. Slowly but surely, she moved into the clearing, her eyes fixed on Scott. He was still transformed, and I'll admit that even I held my breath when she took initiative to kneel down next to him. Scott recoiled, but Allison reached out a hand, guiding his face back towards her. I relaxed slightly, smiling at the gentle action as Scott finally stared up into her eyes. And then she kissed him, slowly forcing him back into his normal, human shape, giving him the power once more to control his shift. I heard the leaves rustle slightly behind me, knowing that Mr. Argent must finally be waking up. My smile grew. Of course, he'd chosen the perfect time to rejoin the land of the living, just as his daughter professed her love to the one kind of person he didn't want her to be with.

"S-Sadie?" The familiar voice broke me out of my thoughts in the silence. I looked over towards the Porsche, noticing that Stiles had taken a few tentative steps in my direction. His entire outfit was in shambles—sleeves uneven, tie askew, mud caking the legs of his pants from where he'd knelt next to me on the lacrosse field. But in that moment, it didn't matter. I didn't care that he'd left me on the field to protect me, that he hadn't answered his phone, or that he'd gone to the dance with Lydia and hadn't called me back. His shaken face was bathed in the orange firelight, and I was just so unbelievably relieved that he was okay that I didn't give a damn about any of it.

I didn't respond verbally. Instead, I sprinted over, launching myself at him and burying my face in his neck. My arms clutched at his back, pulling him closer to me as some sort of reassurance that he was really there. He was alive. We were both okay.

Stiles's arms immediately wrapped around my waist, anchoring me to his chest so I could physically feel his sigh of relief, his consoling whispers fluttering in my hair. It was like all of the tension left my body, and I was so thankful that everything was all right in that moment that I felt like I was about to cry. Stiles gave me a gentle, reassuring squeeze, but when I'd tried to return the gesture, he tensed up, clearing his throat and pulling back.

"Oh, wow, okay," he choked out with wide eyes. "S-So, really, as disturbingly and unsettlingly attractive as I find you all badass and dressed in leather with a loaded gun, c-could you please _not_ press it into my back? Cause I really don't want to get shot right now. Like, I would _really _enjoy _not_ being shot."

I lifted my head from his shoulder, staring up into his face with a small smile of wonder. I had no idea how he could act so normal after something so colossal had just happened. How he could reduce my stomach to butterflies after I'd just stared down an Alpha werewolf and set him on fire before shooting him multiple times in the chest. I had no idea how Stiles could do it, but I wouldn't have changed it for the world.

I dropped the harmless gun, as per his request, letting it fall to the forest floor with a dull _thunk_. He relaxed as soon as the weapon was safely out of reach, and was halfway through thanking me when I cut him off. I lifted my arms from his back, placing a hand on either side of his face, and before I could back out again, I pulled his face to mine.

It felt like being electrocuted, in the absolute best way possible. I thought that kissing Stiles had felt real in my dream, but it was nothing, _nothing_ compared to this. He'd gone completely rigid for a moment, his lips soft, smooth and still under my own. I pulled back, ready to apologize, but that seemed to bring Stiles back to reality. One hand grabbed my waist while the other flew to my head, guiding my face back towards his own so he could kiss me with the proper enthusiasm. It was slow and gentle, but loaded with emotion, a release of the tension that had been building up from the moment I'd spoken to him at the library, maybe even before. My arms snaked around his neck, my own heart pounding in my ears as the kiss deepened.

And then we pulled away. Stiles still had one hand on my lower back, the fingers of the other lacing through my hair. He licked his lips slightly in that maddening way of his, cheeks splotchy with a blush and his eyes fluttering wide, looking dazed. He stared down at me, still only inches from my face, and cleared his throat.

"O-Okay, was that because I said you were attractive?" he asked quietly in a rush. "Cause if we're being honest, I honestly don't think I'm gonna get a peaceful night's sleep for a few weeks now that I have that image of you in my head." I rolled my eyes, blank face spreading into a wide grin as I pulled his face back to mine. But this time we were interrupted.

"Uck," Jackson groaned. I'd nearly forgotten—had completely forgotten, actually—that he was standing only a few feet away on the other side of the Porsche. "Get a room, losers." I smirked, pulling Stiles close again and laying my head on the shoulder facing Jackson.

"Hm, I'd be careful, Whittemore," I taunted. "That wasn't the only gun I've got." Jackson glared, crossing his arms over his chest and slumping back against the car. Stiles stiffened under me again, chest shaking with nervous laughter.

"Heh, yeah, no. Definitely not sleeping." I bit my lip, trying to hide my grin, but before I could reply, another sound interrupted us.

Just a few snapping twigs made us all stop what we were doing and look around. It took a moment to realize what it was, but soon enough Derek stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight once more. He was finally conscious once more, and for the most part, he looked completely unharmed. He stalked through the trees, slowly making his way towards his uncle's burning body. My heart sank, trying not to imagine all of the feelings that must be coursing through his mind—his only living relative left, dying at his feet after he had brutally murdered several people. I pulled away from Stiles to face the scene, sharing a worried look with Scott as he and Allison climbed to their feet.

"Derek?" I called tentatively. But if he heard me, he made no indication of it. He moved closer and closer to Peter's body, and it occurred to me that the fire had not been enough to kill him. There was a horrid sniffing sound, the corpse still twitching—Peter attempting to breathe through the pain in short gasps. But Derek's scowl never changed. He stepped over his uncle's body, but it wasn't until he bent onto one knee that we realized what was happening.

"Wait!" Scott cried, running toward him a few steps. Derek's shoulders stilled, his right arm still slightly pulled back and ready to strike. "You said the cure comes from the one who bit you," Scott went on desperately. "Derek, if you do this, I'm dead. Her father? Her family?" He threw an arm back to gesture to Allison, who was currently being towed away from the unraveling situation by her father. "What am I supposed to do?!" I could sense Derek's indecision from the other side of the clearing and decided to take a chance.

"Derek, please," I begged, taking a few tentative steps towards him. "I know he killed your sister, but at least let something good come out of this. You have to let Scott do it." Derek's head twisted marginally to the right, not turning to look at me, but at least indicating that he'd heard my plea and was thinking about it. Unfortunately, before he could come to a decision on his own, Peter pushed him over the edge.

"You've…already…decided…" His voice was raspy and strained, egging his nephew on to murder with the last ounces of strength that he had. He gasped for a few more seconds before gathering all his energy to emit one last, final growl. "I can smell it on you!" Peter lifted his head slightly, and I could see his glowing red eyes even from where I stood a good distance away.

"Wait, no, no, no!" Scott screamed. "Don't!"

"Derek, no!" I shouted. But it was no use. Derek raised his hand in frustration, bringing it down in one quick swipe, and slashing his uncle's burned and blistered throat wide open. The life slowly drained from Peter's eyes, his head falling back onto the leaves as he finally stopped fighting. Allison's father pulled her into a hug, and Scott's shoulders sagged in the middle of the clearing. It'd been his one and only chance for a cure, and it was gone.

Derek slowly rose to his feet, turning around to face us. His eyes flashed brightly, but instead of the icy blue I'd almost grown accustomed to, they were a bright, blood red. My stomach flopped, terrified by the sight of them. They panned around the clearing slowly, landing on us each in turn before he spoke.

"I'm the Alpha now," he declared. His voice was deep and rumbling, just like Peter's had been when he'd bellowed at Stiles for the truth. One of my hands flew up over my mouth, suddenly trying to hold back the stinging sensation of tears. I felt like I was being crushed by my sympathy for Scott, my fear of what Derek would become, how things might change. I couldn't even imagine the way Scott felt. But it wasn't Scott who spoke next. Instead, it was Mr. Argent.

"Good enough for me," he snarled. He pushed his daughter away from him slightly, raising his gun so that it was level with Derek's chest. The new Alpha growled in return, turning to face him with bared teeth and sharpened claws. Scott's head whipped back and forth, eyes wide, caught in the middle between Derek and his girlfriend's father. Before I could really register what I was doing, I ran into the line of fire.

"No! Stop!" I screeched. Stiles called my name, grabbing for my wrist but missing by just a few inches. I sprinted between them, holding my hands up as if I could physically keep them apart, a trained hunter and an experienced werewolf. However, my actions did make them pause, probably to marvel at my stupidity more than anything. Mr. Argent lowered his gun a few inches, and while Derek remained tense, he pursed his lips closed. "God, can't we stop fighting for just one night?!" I cried in desperation. "We just lost Kate _and_ Peter, and while they did some—some _fucked up_ shit, they were important to some of us. I've had a—a crazy fucking night, and I just want to sleep! I just want to check on Lydia and…and…!" But suddenly, my world was spinning. My vision swam in and out of focus, and the visions around me seemed to move in slow motion while the Earth sped up beneath my feet. "Oh my God," I gasped as a wave of sickness overcame me. "Lydia! I f-forgot…! I have to…! Lydia!" My knees buckled beneath me, and I barely registered the chorus of yells that all sounded like my name. A strong pair of hands grabbed my shoulders, keeping me upright, and a moment later a pair of lanky arms wrapped around my waist, tugging me to the owner's chest. My mouth opened and closed, eyes wide and staring blindly at Scott's shirt as he brushed hair out of my face.

"Sadie?" he called from some far distance away. "Sadie, it's gonna be okay. You just have to breathe."

"Come on, Sadie," Stiles coaxed from behind me.

"L-Lydia," I managed to sob. "I—I have to get b-back to…to…"

"I know, I know," Stiles assured me, pulling me around and into his chest as the tears began to roll down my face once more. "Come on. I'll drive." Scott squeezed my shoulder once before letting his best friend lead me back to the car, leaving everyone else to deal with the mess we'd created. "Hey! Asshole!" Stiles barked at Jackson, who hadn't moved from his position on his vehicle. "Get in the back." For once, Jackson complied without arguing, climbing into the back seat and leaving the door open for me. Stiles guided me into the passenger seat, even going as far to help me with my seat belt since I was so delirious. I grabbed his shirtsleeve just before he ducked back out of the car. "What?" he asked urgently. "Sadie? What is it?"

"S-Stiles, I'm sorry," I apologized, shaking my head. "I just have to make sure Lydia's okay first. Before anything." Stiles smiled sadly, nodding firmly to assure me that he knew what I meant.

"It's okay," he replied earnestly. "I can wait." He squeezed my hand slightly, easing it off his shirtsleeve. It was the same action he'd performed on the lacrosse field, just before he'd abandoned me against his will to help Peter. But this time, I didn't mind letting him fall from my grip.

Because this time, Stiles wasn't leaving. This time, Stiles simply shut the passenger door for me, rushing around the front of the car and climbing into the driver's seat. This time, he was right next to me, rushing off to the hospital to make sure that Lydia was still fighting. This time, it was only a few seconds until he grabbed my hand again, lacing his fingers between mine as a promise that he wasn't going anywhere.

* * *

**A/N: Holy shit. I did it. I cannot believe that I actually did it. That pretty much wraps it up. The final full chapter of ****_The Wild Side._**

**This is the first story I've ever finished. Ever. And to be honest, it's like a huge deal for me, so I want to thank you all for being so supportive along the way. Thank to every single person who clicked on this title, who read, who followed, who favorited, who messaged, who reviewed. The colossal response I received for this story was what kept me going, and I'm eternally grateful.**

**Thank you for your lovely reviews. To LoveLiveLife22, xxxxninaxxxx, BadWolf666, mfmxxx, fighter61998, becca1130, CoolCatz14, Guest, GuardianAngel45, Guest, Maddie, Alexstarlight18, cuteepiee1, SkittleMachine, greenliandakes, LynZann, kodt4e, Chella8181, alvirgil, ScornedxRose, Isaac fan, SammieLuvsFood, Guest, xALFiex, Lucy Greenhill, ConflictingLoyalties563, GetsueiNoYume, A Cool Guest, Kelly1432, Guest, Guest, lostintraduction, prettyargents and LionHeartMisfit.**

**Now for a bit of business. I love all of my readers, I really do. And I love reading stories by other people, especially my friends. You know when someone insults your favorite book or your favorite TV show in front of you and you get upset? It's not fun. And that's how I feel when people smash stories that I'm reading. I'm glad that you guys like my story, so I'm just going to ask politely that you refrain from referencing to it when messaging others in a derogatory manner. Because when people send hate to people I love, it hurts them, and that in turn upsets me, and it makes me less likely to write. So if you like the story, sending hate to anyone is really counter productive. That's all I'm going to say about it.**

**I'll be posting a short epilogue soon that will have a colossal author's note about what's to come. Until then, let me know what you think, and my eternal love and gratitude to you all for sticking with this story. Mwah!**

**-Brittney**


	34. Epilogue

My eyes fluttered open to the stark white of the hospital. I sniffled slightly, wincing my eyes shut and lifting my heavy head with a groan. I rubbed the back of my hand across my chin, scrunching my nose as I wiped away the tiny traces of drool. I tried to twist my head back and forth, but my neck was stiff. Guess that was my punishment for falling asleep in the chair next to Lydia's bed.

At least I had fallen forward though. That was a minor blessing. It was surely a lot more painful to sleep slouched back in a chair, head dangling backwards and restricting your breathing, spine contorted in an awkward manner and the back of the chair digging into your shoulder blades. Instead, I had leaned my arms on the edge Lydia's hospital cot, resting my head on its side and keeping one of her hands in mine at all time.

Stiles had driven Jackson and I back to the hospital as fast as he could. It was a good thing that he stepped on it, because my mother was having a complete meltdown in the hospital. Miss Eleanor had gone in to watch over her daughter when she arrived, but much to my mother's dismay, I was nowhere to be found. She'd asked every doctor she could find, much like I had when I was frantically inquiring about Lydia. But while several people recalled seeing a distressed, patched up girl in a red dress, no one knew where I'd gotten to. The only person who'd been able to calm my mother down was Sheriff Stilinski, who'd managed to assure her that I would be fine, that I needed some time to myself, and that he'd made sure I was okay himself. They'd apparently held up a pleasant, if tense, conversation until Stiles and I finally wandered into the waiting room. At that point, my mother sprang up from her chair, launching herself at me and pulling me into a hug that made me feel like the victim of a Burmese python. She bombarded me with question after question, desperate for answers, but not willing to wait between questions so I could give them. Finally she looked down, trailing off only when she noticed that Stiles and I were holding hands.

That had given Stiles enough time to explain that he'd shown up to the hospital a little later than he'd intended. He'd wandered around restlessly after talking to his dad, until he finally found me roaming a completely different floor. After making sure that I was okay, he and Jackson had taken me home to change into something slightly more comfortable than my dirty formal dress. He insisted that we must have just missed my mother on the road, and apologized profusely for taking so long. He was just trying to make sure I was okay.

That had sated both of our parents at least partially. My mom was obviously still frantic about me getting attacked, and handed me a large T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants she had brought with her, similarly intending to have me change. I took them gratefully, and squeezing Stiles's hand, left to get changed in the bathroom.

Stiles had promised to stay with me while Lydia was still unconscious. As far as I knew, he did stay at the hospital, but thanks to a favor from a few staff members, he couldn't stay _with_ me. Mrs. McCall had shown up on our floor as soon as she had heard what happened. Stiles and I assured her that Scott was fine. He was taking care of Allison and would be coming as soon as he could. Mrs. McCall had pulled me into a gentle hug, acutely aware of the padding that covered the slashes on my shoulder. She'd noticed the several glances I stole to Lydia's room, and promised she'd talk to the doctors to see what she could do about letting me in.

Lo and behold, twenty minutes later she returned. The best deal she could get was for my mother and I to be allowed inside, since we were close family friends actually living with the Martins. Stiles, unfortunately, was just a classmate, which meant that he would still be confined to the waiting room. I was almost tempted to stay with him, but in the end, my loyalty to Lydia won out. Stiles had hugged me warmly, letting me cherish that warm smell of cologne and curly fries one more time, before he promised he'd stick around and pushed me into Lydia's quarters.

Since then, I hadn't left her room. I got up to use the bathroom once or twice, but besides that, I hadn't left her side. My mother and Miss Eleanor forced me to eat, bringing me food from the cafeteria or from home. The doctors had assured us that Lydia would have the utmost care, and that they would call us if anything changed. That had calmed Miss Eleanor down only slightly, enough that they'd been able to convince her to go home and try to sleep. But they couldn't move me from her side. A few whispered terms had been thrown around the room, things like "separation anxiety" and "survivor's guilt," and in the end, the staff let me stay. They'd wheeled a cot into the room for me, but I refused to move more than a few feet from Lydia's side. Every now and then, a doctor or a nurse would poke their head in to check Lydia's vitals and make sure I was okay. I was fairly certain they were texting our mothers at half-hour intervals, some condition of making them leave the premises to sleep in their own beds. Most of the time it was Mrs. McCall, until she got off work and a few other nurses took over. At one point, even Dr. Fenris had decided to stop by. He hadn't pressed the subject, but the dark look in his eye let me know that he knew exactly what must have caused our injuries. He promised vaguely that he would look into it, and if he found any explanation for what was happening, he would let me know.

And that was the scary part. None of us really knew what was happening. At first, I'd thought for sure that Lydia was rejecting the bite, that she was going to die. But by the time we'd all returned to the hospital, her body had been stable for some time. So she wasn't dying. That should have meant she'd been turned, but she wasn't healing either. She was just caught in some sort of limbo in between, not healing, not dying, not turning, not waking. The confusion alone was enough to drive me mad.

Of course, I was happy that she was still hanging on. But every breath felt like a lifetime apart, every blip on the heart monitor too far away. I was hanging on the edge, just waiting for something to go wrong, sure that if I got too comfortable, the heart monitor would flat-line, or she would stop breathing again. It was a wonder I had ever gotten to sleep.

In the end though, I guess the exhaustion of a crazy night had won out over my anxiety. We had heard from Scott later that night. Whether it was because of my plea and near-faint or because reason had presented itself in some other form, Derek and Mr. Argent had decided to postpone their fight for a single night. They had Kate's dead body, and Peter's burned corpse. It was only a matter of time before someone happened upon them, and there was still an open murder investigation in town. In the end, they had concluded it would be best to pin it on Kate. The police knew that all of the murders had been connected to the Hale fire, and that the mastermind behind that particular case of arson had been a young woman with a fancy necklace—specifically, Kate. Allison had offered up the heirloom for the frame job, making it look like Kate had gone after all of her accomplices before killing herself out of grief. Then Derek had disposed of Peter's body in some deep grave beneath the house, where it would hopefully never be disturbed again. Maybe it was that tiny bit of closure that had allowed me to drift off, lulled into unconsciousness by the steady beeping of Lydia's heart.

But now it was the next morning. I blinked around the room, trying to get my bearings once more. Lydia was still motionless on the bed, her hair lying unmoved on her shoulders, but her cheeks seemed to have a little more color, at least. There were a few cards that had been placed in the room while I was unconscious, all from Lydia's friends and admirers. I wasn't sure how many people had heard about what happened, but Jackson _had_ carried her body to the front of the building while a hoard of teenagers were pouring out the front doors. My head had been spinning, but I was fairly certain it had caused a bit of a panic.

My free hand reached out blindly for my cellphone on the chair next to me, intending to check the time, but instead I found something soft and furry. I quickly turned my head, picking up the teddy bear that had been propped up in the seat. I glanced around the room, finding one almost identical nestled next to Lydia's other side. I looked down once more, examining the fluffy, light brown fur and cute, slightly flattened face. It was wearing a pale pink T-shirt, which had the words _"Thinking of You"_ printed on the front in a cheesy font. A lopsided heart had been scribbled around it in Sharpie, setting it apart from Lydia's, which read _"Get Better Soon."_ I turned back to the chair, finding a water bottle and a pack of Reese's cups as well. A wide, bleary smile spread over my face. Of course—Stiles.

Stiles. My stomach still fluttered just thinking about him, about how we'd danced, how he'd tried to protect me, how I'd finally gotten to kiss him amidst all the other crazy things that were going on. And that was the point. There were other things that were going on. Things that we had a responsibility to tend to before we could focus on ourselves. I hated it, absolutely despised it, but I needed to make sure that Lydia was going to be okay. Or deal with the fact that she wasn't going to be okay. Either way, the entire situation with Lydia needed to be closed before I could let myself concentrate on Stiles. And thankfully, he understood. He knew me well enough to know that it was nothing personal, that I was nervous and I was scared, but I wanted him. So he'd promised to wait until I was ready to talk about it. And so far, he'd been doing a pretty amazing job of staying by my side. This time, it was his turn to keep me sane.

I lay my head back down on the bed, cuddling my new bear to my side. I wanted to enjoy the last couple moments I could get before a whole wave of new problems hit. We had survived a lot over the last few months, but I knew deep down that it wasn't over. In reality, everything was just beginning.

**A/N: Okay, and that is it officially. I wanted to add this little bit on the end to tie up the story with a bow, and also so you guys wouldn't freak about the excessively long author's not I am about to type.**

**First of all, thank you once again for all of your support. One or two of the reviews legitimately made me cry, and I'm happy you guys have enjoyed reading the story as much as I have enjoyed writing it. Which leads me to the first order of business. Yes, I will be continuing the story. I have lots of things planned for Stiles and Sadie, and it would be cruel of me to leave you with only one kiss (two if you count the dream), no official relationship status, and Sadie's best friend in the hospital, wouldn't it? So the plot will extend into season 2 (and beyond if I can manage it), even though I'm not sure what the title is going to be or when it is going to come one.**

**Which leads me to the next order of business. What can you guys do in the mean time?**

**First of all, if any of you are interested, I would love to do a video. If you guys have any questions about things that happened in The Wild Side, want me to elaborate on a certain scene or line, or want to hear me talk about anything that happened in the story, I'd love to do that to the best of my abilities. If you have questions about where the story is going, or predictions as to what would happen, I would love to talk about that too! I want to use this as a time to explain things you don't quite get (if it doesn't give anything away) and to give you a little teaser for what's coming. So if you have any questions, feel free to put them in a review, in a private message to this account, or as a message to my tumblr page, thetenthdoctorscompanion. I'm not sure when I'll get around to it, so there's currently no deadline or maximum of questions you can ask.**

**Secondly, several people expressed interest in hearing parts of this story from other people's point of view. Namely Stiles, but others as well. And I'm totally down for that. I'll be releasing a series of one shots, starting today, to hold you over until I start publishing the sequel. I might toy around with point of views, third person, first person of different characters, but you can go look at that on my profile, and follow "The Other Side." I'm not sure how many of these one shots there will be. I have about 4 mind, but if you have scenes that you'd like to see (either scenes that are in the story from someone else's point of view or scenes that weren't in the story at all because Sadie wasn't there) please feel free to send me those too. I'm not going to call them "requests" because I probably won't do all of them, or GET to all of them, but please feel free to drop me a line anyway. But hopefully that will sate you guys.**

**I think that was everything that I had to say. Not as long as I thought it was, but still. Thank you all for reading, and I look forward to hearing you soon.**

**-Brittney**


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